Intense Therapy
by spicehnoodles
Summary: She thinks he's infuriating. He thinks she's fun to tease. She thinks he likes her. He thinks she's different than any other girl he's ever seen. She thinks that he loves his girlfriend dearly. He thinks that...he'll never have a chance with her.
1. one

"So you're telling me that you're cancelling our meeting today, Miss Harrington?"

Courtney gripped her cell phone tighter. She woke up incredibly early—5:30 am—just to have this meeting with Miss Harrington. She informed Courtney that she likes to wake up at 4:00 am, and she specifically told her to have this meeting at 5:30 am for no reason why. Normally sessions would be at around ten or eleven o' clock, but since Miss Harrington paid _big money _just to have a 5:30 session, Courtney allowed it. She needed the money, anyways.

Courtney was really, _really _tired for she stayed up at night, doing her homework for college. Her sister did warn her not to be a therapist while she was still in school, but hey, you're talking to the famous overachiever. Courtney didn't like to go to school, go home and do work, and then after that do nothing. She had money, sure—her _parents' _money and the rest of her money in the bank were for emergency stuff. She wanted to make her own money.

"_I'm, like, so super sorry, Courtney. I totally forgot that I had my mani/pedi appointment today," _Miss Harrington said in her typical "valspeak" language. _"I know, like, normally the time for the appointments and stuff is, like, at lunchtime or before that or whatever. So yeah, I'll totally call your cell-y or tell-y, and we'll see what goes on from there, Courtney!"_

Courtney sighed exasperatedly and rubbed her temples stressfully. "Miss Harrington, I told you it's 'Miss Neville.' It's quite informal to just say my name like that. We can say our former names as we get to know each other more, okay?" she said. "And I'd rather not call you 'Lindsay.'"

The only thing she heard was some murmuring in the background and giggles. _"I know, right?! Yeah, like, totally! He was all, you know, like, 'Why are you—?' Oh, sorry, Courtney! What were you saying? My 'BFFFL' was totally telling me something and yeah. And—oh, my gosh, he _did not_! I—"_

Courtney pressed the _end _button on her phone and slammed it on her desk. After a few minutes, she picked it up, inspecting it for any damage. If this cell phone broke, this would be the sixth phone she had broken and replaced. Even though she hated spending money on insignificant things, cell phones were pretty functional for her.

Courtney took a couple of deep breaths, remembering her meditational exercises her friend Bridgette forced her to go to. She then rolled over on her chair to the phone and pressed a button.

"_Yes, Miss Neville?" _Miranda's voice asked dully. _"Is there anything you need, Miss?"_

"Yes, Miranda. Can you tell me if I have any more appointments left?" she asked.

"_Ugh, okay, hold on."_

Courtney wanted to run over to Miranda's office and smash her head against her desk. Miranda always infuriated Courtney with her insipidness and attitude. Courtney would have immediately fired her if she wasn't so good with her job. Although Miranda may seem disinclined to do her job, she still does it and does it…faultlessly.

Courtney started to drum her fingers against her desk.

"_Okay, you have…five clients coming today, Miss. Most of them are in the afternoon; the earliest one is in 9:30, and that's 'Icky Nicky.' I'm sure you'll have a _pleasant _time with her. The last one is going to be…huh. Well, this guy's new, Miss. Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. Yesterday, when you went home early to finish your work and stuff, this girl called in, scheduling an appointment. We had room for one more so of course I wrote her in. I tried calling you that day, but you weren't answering your telephone and cell phone," _she explained. _"His appointment is at…uh… Damn it, I should have better handwriting… There. It's at 4:30 pm. Think you can handle this dude, Miss?"_

Courtney gritted her teeth and groaned out loud. She heard Miranda laugh a little on the other side. "Yes, I can. I should go home and get some sleep since Miss Harrington cancelled our meeting today… Or never mind, I'll just do my homework to waste some time. You can go home if you'd like, Miranda."

"_Nah, but thanks, anyways, Miss. I'm too wide awake; I drank too much coffee and ate too much freaking candy. I'm practically hyper. I'll probably go outside and get some more coffee since we ran out. Uh, sorry—I'm an addict for coffee. But I'm not gonna go now. I'll probably watch some TV in the waiting room. Do you want me to put the _'We're Closed' _sign on the front?"_

"Yes, thank you."

"_Well, all right. Call me if anything. Bye, Miss Neville." _

Courtney ran a hand through her hair slowly. She rolled her chair near the window and leaned back against the chair. She popped her neck and cracked her knuckles. It was rare that she did; it was only when she was at ten of her "Stress-O Meter" as Bridgette would call it. But now she thinks it's at an eleven. The last time she felt like an eleven was in junior high, panicking over her credits.

_I better get started on my homework, _she thought, unwillingly getting off of her chair and walking to her bag which was on the mini sofa. She pulled out three thick textbooks and slammed them on the ground. She plopped herself on the floor, taking out her writing utensils, and began writing.

"Shit, I forgot my binder," she muttered. She got out her notebook and then began writing down words. She stopped and groaned out loud in frustration. "Ugh! I didn't even fucking open my textbooks! What the hell's the matter with me?!" She angrily opened her textbooks to the page and _then _began writing down stuff.

Courtney went through her homework effortlessly as always. She liked it that way. Whenever she does homework—that's in the present time—she would get really angry because she's really tired or she procrastinated. But now that she has time to do it she can do it with ease. She doesn't have trouble doing homework; it's just that how she _feels _while doing her homework is the huge problem.

She smiled as she went through her homework. Then she frowned.

"_Some people assume that Indians in the present time are 'people who wear buffalo skin as clothing and dance around the fire.' What is this normally called?" _the question said.

Courtney gripped her mechanical pencil tightly. She started to tap the pencil on the ground, biting her lip, saying, "What the hell is it? It's on the tip of my tongue… Damn, damn, damn, _damn_! It's something with 'centrism,' right?!"

Courtney thought that she got it when it suddenly slipped out of her mind. She yelled out loud, threw her pencil to the wall, and said a string of profanities to no one. She got up and collapsed on the small sofa, rubbing her forehead, hearing her heart beat fast.

"_Um…Miss?" _Miranda said through the speakerphone. _"I can hear you."_

Courtney's left eye twitched. "Then why the hell didn't you press the button to _not _hear me, Miranda?" she inquired aloud, beyond infuriated.

"_Well…I thought you might do something funny. Do you want some coffee? I'll, er, get you some—if you want."_

"No."

"_Uh, okay. Oh, and Miss…the answer is 'ethnocentrism.' I'm taking sociology classes, too. Bye." _This time she heard the _click _and silence.

Courtney stared at the pencil she threw to the wall and the ground scattered with papers. She took the pillow near her and placed it on her mouth. Then she did what high school girls would do when they're mad at someone:

She yelled through the pillow.

**. . .**

Jimmy shook his head and started laughing. "It was really stupid, Courtney," he continued on. "I mean, I was just kissing the girl since she practically _begged _me to do it, you know? I was being really generous and my wife threw a huge gasket over something so…trivial. She started yelling on how 'unfaithful' I am and shit. Then she forced me to do this damn therapy session _again_, and you know I hate therapists. No offense to you. Hey, aren't you a little too _young _to be doing this? Uh, usually therapists are, like, old and crap. I forgot to ask you those weeks ago. Anyways, what should I do? It's my wife who needs therapy, not me; I'm innocent, man."

Courtney resisted the urge to stab his eyeballs out with her ballpoint pen. "Look at it in your wife's point of view, Jimmy. She doesn't know the whole story, and people tend to assume things. It's human nature. How would you like it if you saw your wife kissing another guy because _'she was being generous'_? Would you like that?" she questioned.

"Of course not, Courtney! I'm just saying that I fulfilled the chick's needs by—"

Courtney looked at the clock hanging above him. "Oh, well, would you look at the time! You're already running late for who-knows-what, Jimmy. The last client of the day will be coming in soon or is probably here already. We'll continue this in your next appointment which will be…"—she pretended to check her clipboard—"…on a… Oh, dear. You don't have any more room," she lied. "We'll squeeze you in a Thursday, same time—two weeks from now."

Jimmy frowned. "Fine, I guess." He grabbed his stuff and went to the door. "I'll see you on Thursday, Courtney! And remember: it was my wife's fault for assuming, not me! I was just—"

"Being generous. Got it, Jimmy!"

_Being generous, my aching ass, _Courtney thought indignantly. She was about go sit down when the intercom went on and she heard Miranda say, _"Miss, your last client is here."_

Courtney punched the wall nearest her and cracked her knuckles yet again. She stood and fixed herself up. She walked over to her chair, grabbed her clipboard, and sat down, crossing her legs.

And waited.

Waited.

Waited.

_Waited._

_Waited._

Courtney blew out a breath angrily, rolled her chair, and pressed the button. "Miranda! Where the hell—?!"

The door opened suddenly with a man saying, "Calm down, woman. I'm here, I'm here. Jeez…"

Courtney pressed the button and swiveled on her chair, putting on her professional yet friendly looking façade. She cleared her throat quietly and appraised her new irritation—uh, client.

He had a green Mohawk with black semi-spiky hair. He had a lot of piercings on and was wearing a black, short-sleeved buttoned down shirt. He only buttoned it up to the middle, though, showing his dark blue undershirt. He wore black pants with a chain on the side. He also wore black Chuck's. He was a typical "badass punk."

He was someone Courtney hated and avoided during high school and middle school. Just her luck.

Courtney cleared her throat again. "Hello there…"—she looked at her clipboard—"Mr. Taylor. I'm Courtney Neville. We'll be able to call each other by our first names until we're comfortable with each other—"

For some reason, he snickered at that.

"—_but _right now we'll address each other by are surnames, is that all right, Mr. Taylor?" Luckily, she had years of perfecting on hiding her irritated tone.

Mr. Taylor sighed irritably. "I'd rather not, _Courtney_. Being formal with each other makes me feel…uncomfortable. Isn't it your _job _to make your wonderful clients to feel _comfortable_…_Courtney_?" he added slyly.

Courtney tried to manage a small smile. _Being formal makes him uncomfortable? Isn't it the other way around? _"If that's what you wish, then all right…Duncan."

"I do wish it, Courtney." It was like he was mocking her.

"All right, then… Could you please start with why you are here? What is troubling you?"

Duncan leaned back against the sofa, stretching his muscular arms. "Don't ask me, man. My girlfriend's the one who forced me to be in this stupid hellhole. I don't even know what I did wrong, Courtney," he explained.

_What, no "No offense to you" or anything _polite _like that? _"But do you know _why _she did that?"

Duncan rubbed the nape of his neck, sighing. "Uh…I guess it's because I need help with things or yeah…"

_I _know_ that__, you fucking idiot_. "Help with _what_, Duncan?"

He smirked at her, obviously knowing that she was irritating him. Courtney was shocked; no one can know what she hides beneath her fake professional tone. Courtney tried to hide it much better.

"I guess it's because I'm treating her wrong. She's the one treating _me _wrong since she's been hanging around with that Elvis wannabe." He scowled. "It's probably something else. I don't know."

Courtney sighed quietly and wrote down "unknown" on her clipboard. "Okay, Duncan, tell me about you, who you are. Start with the basics to get you started properly if you'd like," she said.

Duncan rubbed his chin. "Huh. Well, my full name is Duncan Riley Taylor," he answered.

Courtney waited till he said some more. "Well? Keep going."

He grinned. "It's your turn…_Courtney_."

Courtney let out a faux giggle. "Oh, my bad. I wasn't informed that I was supposed to talk about myself as well. I was only supposed to know about you since this therapy session is about _you _and only _you_." She gave a forced smile.

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "I'm waiting."

"Duncan, I'm only supposed to—"

"So what? It's only me and you in this dingy place, Courtney. It's not fair that I have to spill out my personal life and issues to someone I barely even know! That's just not fucking right, babe."

That hit Courtney.

"Look, _Duncan_—I'm helping you, and the only way to help you properly is to get to know you. I'll say some things about me but none too personal. Everything that happens and is said in here is confidential. This is how therapy is—well, at least how _I _do it," she said cantankerously. "And don't call me 'babe.' I shall not be a victim of your repulsing and unnecessary pet names," she added.

Duncan laughed out loud. He even did that comical "slap-your-thigh" thing. He wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Didn't need to get all snappy towards me, honey. And about the 'pet names'…I can't promise you anything. Besides, don't you feel special?"

"You're flirting with me when you have a _girlfriend _who probably cares about you a lot since she sent you here."

Duncan snorted. "Bullshit, man. She only sent me here 'cause she's going to go and make out with her other shitty boyfriend. And anyways, flirting isn't all that harmless. At least I'm not making out with you right now—or doing something _beyond _that if you know what I'm saying…_babe_." He waggled his eyebrows at me.

Courtney gritted her teeth hard. "Can we _please _get started now, Duncan?" she tried to ask courteously. "Your time is almost up, you know."

"Damn, that much time went by? Well, I guess I'll continue this so I can get away from here. Not because of you—you're fucking hot—but because…well, therapists are like doctors, and I hate doctors; therefore I hate therapists."

"We need to do at least _something_, Duncan. And please refrain from such language in my office."

"Something, eh? Well, we _could _do something fun for you and me. All you have to do is say the harmless word 'yes—'"

Courtney stood up and slammed the clipboard on the ground. _"Shut the hell up! Stop being so fucking irritating and do what clients are supposed to do! All right?! So that means you sit quiet, be depressed, act in denial, cry till your body becomes completely dehydrated, or GO HOME!" _she screamed at the top of her lungs.

All he did was smirk. _Oh_, how she wanted to rip off that smirk from his damn face. "Temper, temper, sweetheart. Maybe you should lie down on that sofa over there, and _I'll _be the therapist. Or maybe you just need anger management classes," he joked. "High blood pressure is extremely dangerous to your body."

Courtney groaned out loud and kicked her chair all the way to the wall, making an earsplitting _BOOM _to the wall. She was shivering with intense rage and if anybody touched her, then…uh-oh.

Duncan went up to her, still smirking, and placed his hands on her forearms, spinning her towards him. They were extremely close.

"Babe…calm down. Your secretary down there must be scared as shit right now from your constant yelling. Just breathe in…and breathe out…" He made a demonstration.

Courtney did exactly what he did. For some bizarre reason, his hands on her forearms were comforting to her and just made her…relaxed. She no longer felt stressed and irritated. It was a miracle.

She didn't notice how she and Duncan's lips were almost touching. Duncan's hands were suddenly going up and down continuously on her arm. Then—

"Hey, Miss, I brought some coffee just in case you—well, this is damn surprising," Miranda said as she suddenly busted in the door, carrying a Styrofoam cup.

Courtney pushed Duncan, and he fell all the way down to the sofa.

"This is nothing, Miranda. And thank you for the coffee!" Courtney said nervously, taking the cup, and pushing her out of the room. She walked quickly over to her desk, drank some of her coffee, and set it down on her table. She put her hands on the table and leaned down, breathing hard. "What the hell was that?"

"You stole my question, babe," he replied. She heard him come closer and Courtney stiffened. She felt his hands go on her waist, and she spun around, pushing him back with her hands on his chest. She tried to do it gently which is hard for Courtney.

"Get the hell away from me, you molesting…pig!" she hissed. "I don't want any of your dregs on my body, because if it was, then it'll nastily crawl its way inside my body, spreading contaminated _Duncan_ in me!"

Duncan held up his hands in a defensive manner. "You're fu—uh, freaking funny, you know that?"

"Shut the hell up."

Courtney watched his arm slowly and gingerly reach around her, grabbing the Styrofoam cup. He drank some of it, his eyes targeted on hers. He sighed in relief and put it back, eyes never moving. He looked at the time and pouted.

"_Aw_, it's time for me to go," Duncan said in a whiny voice. He walked a few steps towards her. "When's our next session, sweetie? It better be tomorrow same time since you didn't help me today."

"That's because—!" she started.

Duncan put a finger on her lips. "Ah-ah-ah, Courtney. Denial is just an excuse for people. You should speak the truth and only the truth even if it hurts." His hand went behind her again and then he chuckled.

Courtney peeked behind her and saw him staring at the picture of she and her mom; the picture said, _"My little Princess." _

She was surprised when she felt something soft on her cheek. She realized that Duncan kissed her cheek softly. She grew pale and backed away, feeling the edge of the desk on the small of her back.

"What the hell are you, some kind of…lecherous monkey of some sort?" Courtney snapped, wiping her cheek with her sleeve.

Duncan smirked at her and walked to the door. He opened the door and then paused. "In Japan, when two people take a bite out of the same food, a bagel or an apple, or drink from the same drink or straw, then that's considered as 'indirect kissing.'" He turned a bit and winked at her. "See you tomorrow…_Princess_."

Even when the door closed, Courtney's mouth was still hanging.

"_Um, Miss, Duncan said that your session with him is tomorrow, correct?" _Miranda's voice went through the phone.

"Uh, yes," Courtney said absentmindedly. "Or wait, wait—!"

"_Okay, got it. I'm going home now. Bye, Miss. See you tomorrow." _Then a _click _was heard.

Courtney cracked her knuckles, went over to the sofa, and laid her head down, staring at the ceiling. _What the freaking hell was that? Isn't he faithful to his girlfriend? Although he bears a small grudge towards her for doing this, it shows that he cares about her deep within his eyes. This guy…is confusing._

Peculiarly, the cheek that Duncan kissed was tingling.

* * *

**TBC.**

**[Hi there.**

**Please excuse the impolite language said in here to those who are uncomfortable with it. This is a practice of characterization. **

**As for my other story, I'm sorry for not updating for a long time.]**


	2. two

Duncan was sitting on the sofa, drinking a bottle of beer. He leaned back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling, wondering why it was so plain white. That's how bored he was. He looked at the generic looking alarm clock near him; it read "1:09 A.M." Duncan groaned and slammed the bottle on the desk adjacent to the sofa.

Duncan leaned forward, roughly grabbing the note that his girlfriend left him, reading it _yet again_. It said:

_Hey, Duncan._

_I'm going to be out for a little while. Don't worry; I'm not out with Trent. I'm just spending some time with Leshawna since I haven't seen her around. I actually don't know when I'll be back, but I'll be back. Gosh, that sounds so "Arnold Schwarzenegger," I know, but just don't throw a volcano, okay?_

_Love,_

_Gwen._

_P.S._

_I'm going to ask you how the session went, so don't even think about lying to me. I. Will. Know._

Duncan's eyebrows furrowed, and he crumpled up the paper, throwing it to the side. He didn't care if he made a mess in the apartment they both lived in. He just hated it when Gwen was like that; he knew that she was out with Trent. Now it was already tomorrow, one o' clock, and she _still _wasn't here. He'd rather be with his freaky therapist.

Then he smirked.

He liked this therapist. First of all—this should _always _be the first thing Duncan, and pretty much every other guy _and _girl should list down—she was _really _hot. She pulled off the professional style pretty well, and the way her face looks when she's trying to hide her irritation is really sexy to Duncan. The legs exposed from her pencil skirt made Duncan…uncomfortable. He was drawn to her. And second of all…well, that was pretty much it; she was hot to Duncan.

But this wasn't a bad thing—well, for Duncan, anyway. He wasn't having sex with her, and he has a right to ogle other women. Besides, Gwen wasn't satisfying him, and they were fighting a lot. Courtney was just someone he never thought he would be with—and that made him _want _her.

Suddenly, he heard keys jangling outside the door. He heard some cusses, and then the door loudly opened, showing his disheveled looking girlfriend. Her eyes widened when she saw Duncan on the sofa, staring at her emotionlessly.

"You're awake," she merely said.

"No shit, Sherlock," Duncan shot. "Where the hell were you, Gwen?" He threw the bottle beer all the way to the trashcan, which was far away, and he almost smirked when it went in perfectly.

Gwen glared at him. "Hey, Mr. Shit-Face, I left you a note, so don't get all fatherly towards me. I specifically told you in that damn note that I won't know when I'll come back. Leshawna just came back earlier this morning—or yesterday now… She was—still _is_—my best friend, and I _missed her_."

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Gwen. But seriously—_one o' clock in the fucking morning_? I would've understood if you came home at eleven or midnight! One o' clock is just passing the line."

"You don't own me, Duncan. I can go home whenever I want to. We may be dating, but we're not married. And even if we were, which I doubt"—she muttered that part—"you still wouldn't own me. We both have equal rights, anyways."

Duncan snorted. He didn't need any Social Studies in this altercation they're having right now. He had hated Social Studies—and pretty much _all _of his classes except for lunch and P.E.—and he didn't want anything refreshing his memory of that boring subject. _Ugh, man. Who would want to learn about dead people? Oh, she was the first female to fly the plane or whatever. How exciting. _Please_—why the fuck don't they talk about Paul Hunn who made the loudest burp? He's not dead._

Gwen's face softened, and she walked over to Duncan until they were close enough to feel each other's breaths. "Fighting is so raunchy, and I _hate _it. It's so lame. I just… Duncan, we need more trust between us. Every time I go out, you always think that I'm with Trent. He was my ex-boyfriend and my first love, but…don't let that get to you. It's in the past, and this is the present." She grimaced. "Ugh, I fucking hate acting all sappy and you know that, so don't bring up things or say things that'll make me be all sentimental and crap. All this fighting is really unnecessary."

Duncan grinned and wound his arms around her waist, burying his face in her dark locks. She smelled like peppermint; he loved peppermint flavors, and so did she…

Duncan really loved Gwen. They both aren't gushy and say "I love you so much" all the time like those "chick flicks" they watch for fun. They say it by body language. They're not all foolish like that. But, at times, Duncan just feels so unsure about their relationship; he just feels like this isn't what he wants. He doesn't picture a future with her.

"So…let's raise our white flags and call a truce, okay, asshole?" Gwen asked, smiling. "Then we can just no longer have all this tension between us."

He chuckled. "Sure, sure, bitch," he retorted.

They stayed standing, arms wrapped around each other. Duncan missed these moments when they were just all happy and joking all the time. Ever since Trent came back, all those happy memories cracked like a mirror. Duncan tried to pick up the pieces and put them back together, but every time he tried, they just fell down again.

And anyways, breaking a mirror means seven years of bad luck—could that possibly apply for Duncan's situation at hand?

"Oh yeah, you're still going to that therapy session even though we've made a truce—which might be temporary, but we'll see how it all goes," Gwen murmured in his shirt.

Duncan got irritated. "Why do _I _have to go? I don't need help, and therapy's for psychotic fuckers who are prone to helplessness. I hate being helpless—you know that," he disagreed. "Why don't you go since you're cuckoo in the head for sending me there in the first place?"

"Just go. Who knows, something good might happen if you continue this therapy session. Your past problems are still affecting you because you're letting it affect you. Although you may have forgotten about it and just flicked it off as if it were crap, certain events and words remind you of it, and you get your period." Beneath all of the seriousness in her tone was light humor. "Continue. And make me shut up, because I'm sounding too wise and mature. Damn it."

"With fucking pleasure, sunshine." He captured her lips with his.

Courtney's face popped up into his mind, and for some reason, that made him kiss Gwen with more…_pleasure_.

**. . .**

"I hate you," Courtney said to him, scrunching her nose in distaste. "I can't believe you tried to look under my skirt, you perverted pervert."

Duncan laughed. "It's your damn fault for wearing a short skirt, Princess. I simply bent my head all the way down; my head became tempted to look under since it was _curious _to what was under your skirt. My head has a mind of its own," he defended himself.

"Yeah, and his name is called 'Fucking Perverted.'" Courtney cleared her throat. "Now let's start. We practically wasted five minutes of this session. I'll ask the same question from our last session: Why are you here? What do you need help with? Please be honest, Duncan."

He sighed. "Fine, fine. My girlfriend and I keep fighting. Apparently she thinks it's 'cause we don't trust each other enough. That's what we're lacking or whatever… Ever since that ass came back…" He growled and scratched his head roughly. "Yeah, so that's why. She thinks that _I'm _the one who needs help."

Courtney nodded, writing stuff down. "Uh-huh… Okay, then… Do you agree with her—that you both are lacking trust towards each other?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Who's this 'ass' that came back? Is she an ex-boyfriend of Gwen—?"

"He's a huge asshole who left Gwen because he had to go help his grandma who had this sickness of some sort. He promised to come back as soon as possible. He didn't tell her that he would come back when his grandma healed, which she did, just weeks ago, and now he's back from all those months of being gone. Gwen can hold a grudge I'll tell you that, Princess."

Courtney's eye twitched, most likely from the nickname. "Gwen is your girlfriend, correct?" she asked curtly.

"Yes."

"How long have you two been together?"

Duncan smirked. "If I tell you that we've been together for almost a year now, would you become jealous?" he joked.

Courtney glowered. "Why the hell would I be jealous of that? We just met each other, Duncan. Yes, there was this incident that made us… I won't finish that sentence, but this incident was caused by emotions—not emotions of attraction but emotions of…being unsure, which is for you. My emotion was, of course, pure anger, and anger can make you do things." Then her eyebrows furrowed.

"Uh, I have no idea on what you just said, but I'll ignore that. Now, why won't you finish that sentence that you left hanging?" _Tease her until she throws a temper tantrum; it's fun, _he thought evilly.

"What sentence? I stated a lot of them earlier." Duncan knew she was stalling.

"Aw, don't stall, babe. I quote you, 'Yes, there was this awesome dude named…' Then you stopped."

"Oh, shut up, Duncan! I didn't say that; I said something else, you Neanderthal! Jeez, if you're going to quote me, at least make it accurate!"

Duncan grinned hugely. "Oh, so you _admit _that there _was _a sentence that you didn't finish. Now that you're busted, it's time for you to complete that unfinished sentence."

Courtney looked like she wanted to throw darts with her ballpoint pen, making Duncan's mischievous eyes the bull's eye. "Curiosity killed the cat—ever heard of that?"

"_No_. Curiosity made me curious. Now speak."

He watched as she gripped her pen tighter, knuckles turning white—or a bit lighter since Courtney's skin complexion is tan. She then let out an incensed sigh.

"What you did yesterday, with you coming close to me, and that…feeling. It—it didn't mean anything, though! Like I said earlier, we were both feeling extremely emotional in a different way and those emotions cause things. I'm a therapist, I should know."

Duncan nodded in agreement. "It meant nothing. So go continue and do your therapist shit." When he saw her glare, he laughed and corrected himself: "I mean go do your job, Princess."

"Would you stop calling me 'Princess'?! Just because you saw a frame that said _My little Princess _with me and mother in it does not mean that you can just call me that! My mother just picked out that frame, because she thought it looked nice!" Courtney yelled.

"Well, if you hadn't put that frame out in plain view, then I wouldn't have seen it and I wouldn't be calling you 'Princess' a lot. Your fault, babe. And anyways, the name 'Princess' really matches you for some reason. I know that judging immediately is kind of a shitty way—I mean _crappy _way of getting to know people, but I know that you're an uptight chick who thinks that she's above everyone else and doesn't know how to have fun. You never had a boyfriend, implying that you've never been kissed, _and _that you like to overstress yourself. You have some wrinkles showing under your bangs. Oh, and you have anger issues, though that's pretty obvious." He put on an innocent smile.

Duncan loved making Courtney all disconcerted and shocked. He knew that normally no one ever did that to her. She managed to keep a straight face towards uncanny situations. How Courtney reacts towards things—what Duncan does, to be specific—is highly entertaining to him. And she's hot when she's mad, so that adds more amusement and to other things…

_When the hell did I get so perceptive? I should be a therapist, t—no, no. No fucking way will I be one. _He shuddered.

Duncan sighed and looked out the window. He didn't really need help—the only reason he was coming here was because Gwen insisted for him to go and to be with his hot therapist. He knew that he and Gwen were having many problems, but he still didn't understand why _he _was here.

_And what does she mean about my past problems? I'm over that—there's a reason why it's called _"past" _problems. Jeez, Gwen…_, he thought.

He suddenly didn't notice that Courtney was yelling about something to him.

"…_everyone says that I'm uptight?! I can have fun! It's just that when people suggest we go to these places that _they _think is fun, I don't actually think it is! I mean, I have different tastes, anyways! It's not my fault I'm different than others—they're just fucking jealous of me, right?! And who are you to tell me that I think I'm 'above everyone else'?! I do not think that way! People are just so irritating and they make so many wrong decisions. I try to help them by—ugh! And yes, I did have a boyfriend _for your information_, Duncan!" _She stopped yelling and massaged her temples, frowning. "And now you made me yell at you again."

"Poor Miranda," Duncan said. "You should really go to some anger management classes, Princess. That temper of yours is dangerous to others and most of all,_ yourself_."

Courtney glared daggers at him. "Don't tell me what to do. I don't need anger management classes, you baboon. And we should get started again since you distracted me."

Duncan groaned and tried a new approach, not wanting to talk about his so-called _problems_. He put his elbow on the sofa arm and leaned his cheek on his hand casually. "Hey, you told me you had a boyfriend during your drama queen rant, eh? Who was he? Tell me about him, sweetie," he coaxed. "Come on; you know you want to."

"Shut up, Duncan. We're here to talk about you and your problems, not me and my past. Besides, talking about him is not important nor he himself is important. He's a thing of the past—literally." She put her clipboard on the ground along with her pen. Duncan's left eyebrow rose when he saw a bit of her cleavage.

"Nice rack, Princess." He whistled lowly.

Courtney immediately sat up, grabbing her pen, and throwing it his way. Duncan smirked and merely craned his neck to the side, making the pen hit the wall. It would've been a perfect bull's eye to the forehead if he didn't move.

"Murdering clients won't do you any good. You'd lose your job, and then you would have no money left. In order for you stay at school, you would have to have a job as a stripper or a prostitute. See, me moving my head and not dying made you one hundred percent lucky and _saved_." He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's the stupidest story I've ever heard," Courtney commented. "That story could only happen in some parallel universe."

"Oh really?"

"Well, it's the second stupidest story I've ever heard, possibly; and I guess this story could only happen in _your _insane imagination."

Duncan started playing around with his chain necklace around his neck. "And now we hear the story about Miss Courtney's first and last boyfriend," he announces.

Courtney scowled. "I told you; I'm not—"

"Was he hot like me? Was their relationship like those _Lifetime _movie dramatic stories? Was he—"

"Duncan, like I said, your imagination is insane—hey! I wouldn't ever put myself in a relationship if there were to be a whole bucket of drama in it! That's not my thing—!"

"—or he could perhaps be gay, and that must've turned off Courtney. Eh, she'd probably have some bad taste in men. She'd date someone like Harold or something. I guess she's the type that would say, 'Oh, the personality—'"

Courtney's nostrils flared. "I didn't date someone who was gay. I would know instantaneously if I did since I'm a therapist, and therapists are very vigilant. I don't have bad taste in men, and I wouldn't date someone like Harold, whoever that guy is, or anyone like him at all! Stop—"

"—would've been pretty sexy if Courtney was a lesbian. So she said that she used to have a boyfriend, but, in actuality, she's a fucking lesbo. Damn, that is—"

"—you're so fucking irritating! Shut up, you moron! I—"

"—she were bigamous—I'm talking about that girl Courtney must've been with since she's a lesbo, then that would cause a lot of conflicts and shit. I saw that in a _Lifetime_ movie…n-not that I watch it, but—"

"—I'm right here! Why are you talking about me when I'm _right here_?! Bigamous?! Lesbian?! Where are you—?!"

The door near them slammed open, showing a fuming Miranda. Her cheeks were slightly flushed with anger, and she was breathing heavily. She straightened up, glaring icicles at both of them.

"You guys are so freaking loud, you know that?!" Miranda screamed at them. "I can hear every word both of you are saying! Some of your sentences were unfinished because one of you tries to speak louder and louder! What the hell are you guys talking about that lead to this infantile bickering?! This building is supposed to be closed by now, and all of us should be home. I want to go home, Miss Neville. If you want to stay here and be having an argument about shit-filled junk, then I'm going to leave right now." And with that, she left, slamming the door loud.

It was silent. Duncan and Courtney were still staring at the door with unidentifiable expressions. Then they both slowly looked at each other.

"Well, that was weird," Duncan remarked. "But she was right; we are having a pretty shitty conversation."

Courtney glared at him. "It's your fault, anyways, Duncan," she spat. "You're the one assuming outrageous stories of my life!"

"'Kay, just tell me who your boyfriend was and we'll leave immediately."

"We're supposed to be talking about you and solving your problems!"

Duncan chuckled. "Stop being so hung up about me, babe. I have a girlfriend, and I don't think she would like it if the therapist she assigned me to has the hots for me and is super obsessed over knowing everything about me."

Courtney stood up from her chair, making the chair topple over. "We didn't get anything done, you know that?! All I know is that your full name is Duncan Riley Taylor, and that you're an ego-centric asshole who obviously doesn't want to talk about himself and his problems, so he stalls by joking around about random crap! You are having problems with your girlfriend; I got that! But that is not the enough! Just tell me your problem, what you need help with, and I'll help you so we'll get this session done once and for all and we won't see each other ever again!" She was breathing heavily.

Duncan suddenly felt really irritated. He has been telling her that he doesn't really know why he's here, and this girl was still on that subject? He told her all he knew; he did not what else to say as of now.

"Hey, I told you that I don't know why the hell I'm here. Why don't you call up my girlfriend and see _why the hell _I'm here, because I sure as hell don't know why. She needs it maybe. She's sneaking around with her boyfriend up until one o' clock in the fucking morning. I'm _so sorry_"—insert sarcasm—"for using such impolite language in here, but it's a habit. Anyway, I don't know why Gwen is keeping things from me. If she wants to be with Elvis, then why doesn't she break up with me? Does she _want _to cause some drama? She sure as fuck can't be with both of us. I don't like sharing; I tried that in kindergarten, and I won't go back again. Our relationship is going down the toilet, Courtney," he finished.

Courtney smiled, and that was the first time Duncan ever seen her smile. It wasn't all bright and happy, but rather it was sarcastic and tempting. "Well, thank you, Duncan. You gave me what I needed."

Duncan was confused. He tilted his head to the side. "Eh? How's that possible? I just ranted—and I hate ranting; it's a pain in the ass—to you. Usually when girls say 'You gave me what I needed' that meant I had s—"

The smile faded away. "Ugh, I didn't mean it _that _way. When people tirade, their emotions suddenly burst out and everything, the truth, what they're hiding inside, are no longer discreet. You can't stop it; it happens to everyone, even me."

"You're making it seem like when people rant and blah spurts out, it doesn't happen much. But if it does happen to you, then it's possible. Are you some queen that everyone obeys? Like if something impossible happens to you, then it can happen to anyone?" He was still irritated.

"What the hell does that mean? I just said that—"

"Whatever, man." Duncan stood up from the couch, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'm gonna go now; Gwen's probably thinking that I'm getting back at her by having sex with you. I'll see you…whenever I feel like it." He opened the door and headed out.

Courtney ran out and then grabbed his arm quickly. "Duncan! You can't just walk out like that! And you can't just see me 'whenever you feel like it'! You have to make an appointment or else it'll mess up everything! I'll call you to inform you when we can—"

Duncan spun around and was slightly taken aback on how close he was to Courtney. He grabbed her hand and pried it off his arm, intertwining their hands together slowly.

"I'm going to do what I want to do, and you can't stop me," he whispered. He looked down and almost smirked. He picked up his right hand and started buttoning up Courtney's shirt.

He saw her blush. "What—what the hell are you doing?!" she spluttered out. "You—you—you pervert! Get your—!"

"Oh, shut up, sweetheart. Your buttons _suddenly _became undone—unless you were trying to seduce me by pulling off the sexy therapist look. And let me tell you—it's fucking working." He left one button undone. "It will look pretty ugly if you buttoned up all of them. You want a boyfriend? Leave that undone, or two. You want an old pedophile desperate for sex? Unbutton four at least."

Courtney's eyes widened as his face came closer to hers.

"You want some of me? Take off the damn shirt." With that, he kissed the corner of her mouth. When he pulled away, he laughed when he saw her shocked face. He kissed the front of back of her hand, let go, and started walking away.

"Duncan!" he heard Courtney scream. "You do that again, and I'll make sure you'll go running to your girlfriend with one arm and one leg!"

Duncan laughed again. "That turns me one, _Princess_!" he yelled. "Make sure you tie me to the bed while wearing a skimpy nightgown, _Princess_!"

"Stop calling me that!"

* * *

**TBC.**

**[I'm hungry. **

**Oh, and thank you for the reviews. ^^]**


	3. three

Courtney drummed her fingers impatiently on the table. She sipped more of her _White Chocolate Mocha Frappuccino _and glared outside the window near her. She saw people passing by—some were in a hurry, some were couples, some were little kids recklessly running around, and some ran away when they saw her glare.

She leaned back against her seat and sighed. She saw some of the waiters coming by and called him. The waiter immediately came over, smiling politely as he should do.

"Is there anything you need, ma'am?" the guy—his nametag said 'Marco'—asked. "Are you enjoying your drink well? Would you like more?"

_Would you stop with the unremitting questions? _"No, no. I am just going to ask you if someone asks for me—my name is Courtney Neville, and if you're interested in me, please disregard my name for I'm not fascinated by you—would you please be so kind to bring her over here? Thank you very much, Marco," she said with authority in her tone. It was a habit for her.

Marco gave her an obvious fake smile. "Yes, ma'am, I will." He turned around, muttering, "Bitch thinks she has authority over me… 'The customers' always right,' my ass… That's not even related to this—ugh, never mind."

Courtney rolled her eyes at him. She pulled out her _Sidekick _and checked to see if there were any missed calls from Duncan's girlfriend. She groaned in frustration and slid it close shut carelessly.

_What if she doesn't come? I had to skip some classes just to meet this damn girl! Ugh, why am I going so far for that perverted client of mine?! No matter; I'll just wait patiently like I always do and get this over with, _she thought, looking out the window again.

"Hey, are you Courtney Neville?" as voice said next to her.

Courtney looked over to her left side and saw a gothic girl dressed in dark clothing. Courtney grimaced but then quickly put on her normal façade. She nodded and gestured for her to sit down. As Gwen did so, Courtney evaluated her. She had short black hair with teal streaks. _Why am I not surprised? Duncan has a green Mohawk and his girlfriend has teal streaks in her hair. Perfect match, I'll say._

Courtney cleared her throat and straightened herself up from the chair. "I appreciate you coming over here, Miss Matthews. I—" She was cut off.

"Oh, please. Cut it out with the formality; makes me want to vomit out my breakfast." She shivered and looked pale—as if that were possible considering how pale she looked. "Call me 'Gwen.' Can I call you 'Courtney'?"

_Just like Duncan. _"Yes, you may. It's only fair, anyway. All right, let's get down to business, Gwen. But first, may I clarify something?" she asked graciously.

Gwen waved a hand in the air. "Shoot. Clarify away, Courtney."

"You are Duncan's beau, correct?"

"Yeah, I am…or whatever you said; I'm his girlfriend. Why do you need to _clarify _that? You like him or something?"

Courtney couldn't stop herself from snorting in disgust. Every time Duncan's here—it doesn't even matter if he's _not there_!—she'll always lose her resolve and make her true emotions come out. All that training in C.I.T. camp was just a waste now.

"I don't know why people always assume that. Duncan is my client; nothing more, nothing less—well, maybe a tiny bit less, but yes, he's only a client. And I just wanted to make sure Duncan was telling the truth when he said that…"

Gwen laughed. "You're good—you already know he's a freaking liar."

"Well, he can lie, but he's really honest. _Too _honest, if I do say so myself…" She scowled. She then noticed her slipup and put on her façade. "A-Anyways, I just want to inform you how…horrible he is doing in our sessions together."

Gwen blew out a deep breath, obviously annoyed. "I knew that would happen. He agreed to go, but he's not doing a very good job at what he's _supposed _to do in there. Jeez, he's treating this session like it's school over again. I'm sorry about him—he may be loud and harsh, but he's introverted towards certain things, like about his personal life. It's hard to break through him."

"Yeah, I know." She scowled again.

"So is that all you have to tell me? It's like this is some Parent-Teacher-Conference, but whatever. I just want to tell you that we are having relationship problems. I know if that were the case, then I should be in there, as well, but that's not the thing." She started to play around with the mini menu. "You see…Duncan has had some problems in the past. I don't know if I should tell you this since he'll get mad, but…his sister had the same problem as we are right now. I guess you'll have to get the full story from him; he didn't tell me anything, only the summarization of it. He has trust issues."

Courtney nodded, writing down the information on her notepad. "I see… And his trust issues are affecting your relationship with him, yes?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Who's this 'ass' that came back?"

Gwen frowned. "He's talking about Trent and calling him an 'ass'? Gosh, I really want to beat the headlights out of that bozo. Well, yes, he's the one who came back. He _was_ my boyfriend…and first"—she cleared her throat, blushing—"l-l-lover. Duncan's jealous of him. He always thinks that I'm out with him when I'm not." She had a strange look on.

Courtney narrowed her eyes at her to see if she was lying. _Damn, her poker face is good. _"It's natural for him to feel that way—everyone does," she explained.

"But Duncan's not like everybody."

_Eh, that's true. _"All right, then. Is there anything else you can tell me about?"

Gwen laughed. "I'm supposed to be asking that since you called me here, aren't I? Hmmm…Duncan's a nasty flirt, so watch out. He'll flirt with anyone who has gigantic boobs and toned legs."

Courtney glared at the table. "Yes, I understand _that _part," she grumbled.

She suddenly felt a cold hand on hers. Courtney looked and saw Gwen's hand covering hers. Gwen had a vulnerable, pleading look on.

"Help him, Courtney. That dude may be all blissful and joking, but he's hiding a lot of things underneath. He's been through so much during his middle school and high school years. And…it sucks ass that I can't help him. Normally I would do things myself, but…I just can't anymore. He's hard to break through, and since I heard that you're one of the best—and a damn overachiever—I went to you. You being our age is a plus, too, so you can interact with him better." She grimaced. "Though you act like you're all mature and crap…"

Courtney snatched her hand away, glaring. "Hey! It's good to act mature! I'm trying to make a change in this besmirched generation! I am twenty years old, wanting to do good deeds. Sue me!" _I dare you, _she added.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "No need to get your uptight panties in a twist, Courtney. I'm just joshin' around." She stood up, stretching her arms out. Her shirt went up, showing her stomach, and Courtney turned away. "I gotta go to work. See ya, Courtney. Call me if anything."

"Bye…" Courtney ran her fingers through her hair.

Gwen then stopped and turned around. "I know that you can beat up people. It's pretty obvious that you have locked up anger in you. If Duncan acts up, then I give you permission to beat the freaking shit outta him, 'kay?"

Courtney smiled enthusiastically. She always wished to do that. Now she doesn't have to hold back anymore. Poor Duncan. "Oh, I _will_, Gwen," she answered back quite evilly.

Gwen stared at her weirdly before shaking her head and walking away.

**. . .**

Courtney hasn't had a long, peaceful walk in for a while. Her schedule has been exceedingly hectic, and it's nice to unwind and take a break from all of her work—for now. After this temporary relaxation, it's goodbye peacefulness and hello again work, work, work.

She took out her _Sidekick _and checked for any more messages from anyone. She had none.

Courtney sighed and put her hands in the front pockets of her jacket. It was a rare serene moment for her, but it was also boring. She was a workaholic; if she didn't have any work to do, she'd be bored and eventually would grow insane.

Someone bumped into her.

"Why don't you use your eyes and watch where you're going, jerk?" Courtney snapped, rubbing her shoulder. She looked up and saw someone she didn't want to see at all.

"What if you bumped into a kid and you said that? You wouldn't be a good mother, you know," Duncan said, grinning. "And why don't _you _use your eyes and watch where _you're _going…jerk-ette?"

She snorted. "Lame comeback there."

He glared. "Hey, I got plenty of comebacks in my front pocket, darling. Irk me again like that and you'll receive worse than that."

"Oh, I'd like to see you try, _darling_. I'll kick you in the place where every man adores, got that?" She poked his chest hard.

"There's a word called 'joking'—you should look up the definition. It might be useful for your uncontrollable anger right there."

"Yes, and the definition is: 'What a perverted baboon would do when he or she wants to annoy an innocent, smart human.'"

He rolled his eyes at me. "Uh-huh. Can I walk with you? I am _bored_." He groaned out the last word. "I just got off from work, and I want to do something cool. Maybe walking with you and annoying the sh—uh, crap outta you will be productive for me."

Courtney snorted. "How queer; you actually know what that means, don't you?"

"I'm not that stupid, Princess. And don't put your royal thongs in a twist—I'm calling you that whether you like it or not. Friends make up nicknames for friends, so there you have it."

"You're just my client; you're not my friend. Besides, it's inadmissible."

"Inadmissible, inad-shmissible, babe. And only having an affair with a client is…_prohibited_; it's basically like student/teacher relationships."

_Is he actually having an advanced word war with me? Huh. Well, let the games begin, ogre. _"Yes, that's _factual_, Sir Duncan. But even so, I'd much rather I don't have a _camaraderie _with the likes of you."

He smirked, and Courtney knew that he knew what game they were playing. "I see, _Princess _Courtney. You say 'with the likes of you,' which _mechanically _me tells that there are others quite like me. I _deviate_, _Princess_ Courtney. There is only one _sampling_, and that is _io_."

Courtney knew some Italian, and _"io" _means "me." She was surprised that Duncan could speak Italian. "Well, _astonishingly_, I _concur_, Sir Duncan. No human or _extraterrestrial_ creature"—he chuckled at that—"could ever _contrast_ to you. Now don't take this as an _accolade_, because what I meant to say was…_you are the most lecherous 'thing' I have interrelated with in my entire twenty years of livelihood_."

Normally any other person would instantly become offended and get angry with her—but Duncan just laughed. _He just laughed_. It was completely diverse to what Courtney envisaged.

"For the first time in my freaking life, I acknowledge defeat, babe. I mean, you're like a living dictionary or thesaurus! You're even harsher than Gwen." As he said her name, he scowled. But Courtney detected a bit of hurt in his eyes. "That's rare since Gwen's the harshest person I know—eh, besides Heather."

Courtney didn't want to know who this "Heather" was, so she didn't ask him about her. Though something deep inside the hollow of her stomach, she wanted to. It was like it was crying out, _"Ask him! Ask him who that bitch was!" _Courtney assumed that she was hungry.

"Ah, that jogs my memory. Your next appointment will be, I believe, tomorrow, same time. We couldn't find some space for you, so Miranda suggested we just squeeze you in tomorrow. I won't have many clients on that day, though, so I might ask you to come in early."

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "How does mentioning Gwen 'jog your memory'?" he asked suspiciously. Courtney thought he would comment something idiotic about what she said.

_He's so…unpredictable._

"The name Gwen just strikes a chord for me. Why do you ask?"

He shook his head, staring off at the sky. "Nothing; I just thought that you would have some ultra-secret meeting with her about me. I mean, you said so yourself—everything we say in here is confidential, right?"

Guilt crept up her throat. "Yes, I did. But I can confer with who made you come to me…right?"

"What do you mean? Confidential means that no one knows, not even Gwen. Are you telling me that you had an ultra-secret meeting with Gwen that I didn't even know about?" He narrowed his teal eyes at her. "Tell me, Courtney."

Courtney refused to be intimidated. "Well, I did. I wanted to ask her some questions about you since you're being awfully hidden about some things. It's not a bad thing to do, right? I merely asked innocent—"

"What the _hell _did she tell you?" Duncan snapped. "Don't lie, Courtney; I can tell if someone's lying to me. I've been lied to for how many—forget it; tell me _now_."

_He's been lied to a lot? That explains his trust issues… _"She just said that you like to keep things to yourself." Courtney didn't want to tell him the other things Gwen told her—that would just damage everything and cause drama.

"Oh really? _Bullshit_." He came closer to her, chests touching. "Tell. Me. The. Truth."

"Mommy, mommy—look! The lady and the man with weird hair are standing close together! My teacher said that being too close to someone is bad. Can I get mad at them?" a girl cried out loud, pointing at us.

The mom stared at us weirdly before shushing her daughter and scurrying away.

"Duncan, you're causing a scene," Courtney hissed. "Get away from me and shut up!"

"Why don't you just fucking tell me what she told you already?! I know she told you something important about me!" He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.

"There's nothing to tell." She stared coldly at him. "Now _let go_."

Duncan stared long and hard at her; Courtney did the same. This continued on for a few minutes. Finally, Duncan let go, cussed, and started to walk away.

"Ugh, Duncan, you always run away! Why must you hide what's locked up in your heart all the time?!" Courtney shouted after him. "You think you're a man?! Well, then come right over here and spill out what's hurting you! I can help you. Running away and giving in to cowardice is _not _being man!"

Duncan flipped her off. "What the fuck do you know?! I met you three days ago, Courtney! I don't have to tell you anything! You're not even helping me; all you're doing is yelling at me and insulting me! _You don't know what I've been through!_"

Fire swelled up inside her. _"You don't know what I'VE BEEN THROUGH, EITHER!" _she roared, tears stinging her eyes.

Duncan looked at her with a slightly shocked face before scowling and walking away again.

A lot of people were around them, staring, watching. They didn't mind their own business. All they did was stare with shocked faces and amused faces on. It doubled the fire inside Courtney.

"Fucking coward," she spat, and walked away, as well. She stopped then flipped the crowd of people off. "You've got nothing to see here anymore, you fuckers! Get the hell out of here before I make your life a living hell!"

They walked—some ran—away.

**. . .**

Bridgette placed a warm, damp towel on Courtney's forehead.

"Thanks, Bridge," Courtney muttered. "While you're still standing, can you get me some more _Tylenol_?"

Bridgette rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips, looking irritated. "I don't feel any 'gratitude' radiating off of you from your little 'thanks.' Since when do _you_, Courtney, the girl who has imperviousness towards all sorts of sicknesses and such when she reached fifteen, ever get sick?" she asked, skeptical.

"It's not a 'sickness.' My record is still spotless. I just have a _huge _migraine." She massaged her temples. "Now could you _please _get some _Tylenol_ for me?"

"What's wrong with _Advil_?" Bridgette mumbled, and went to the kitchen. "Hey, how is putting a towel on your head going to even make your migraine go away?!"

"Just get me some _Tylenol_! It just feels good against my forehead!" Courtney pressed the towel harder on her brow. "Don't make me yell, Bridgette. It makes it damn worse."

Bridgette came in, saying, "All right, all right," and bent down in front of Courtney. She was carrying an _Evian _bottle and her hand was curled in a loose fist, obviously holding the pill. She handed Courtney the bottle.

Courtney drank the water feverishly. She grabbed the pill from Bridgette and compulsorily swallowed the pill without the water.

"Uh, Court, I brought you the water to drink _and _to drink _with _the pill so you won't have trouble and to make the pill go do its stuff down in your system properly. Forcibly making it go down to your throat isn't good." Bridgette gave her a scolding look.

"Sorry, _doctor_." Courtney put the bottle on the ground, sighing in relief.

Bridgette laid her back against the coffee table, looking concerned. "Now where did this migraine come from? From what I learned…a long time ago, migraines are worse than headaches—_far worse_."

Courtney held up a hand and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Please, Bridgette. I don't want to talk right now; it just makes my migraine worse. I'll tell you later, all right? As soon as I wake up, I'll immediately leave, do my homework, and then manage the schedules for my clients." She turned around on the sofa, facing the cushions.

It was quiet. Courtney didn't know if Bridgette left or not. She then heard a sigh and footsteps.

"Stop stressing yourself out, Courtney. If you keep on stressing yourself out…I don't know what will happen to you. Don't repeat your last problem." Courtney heard more footsteps and a door shut.

_I'm not stressing myself out. I just happen to have a lot of work to do and a lot of clients to help. Jimmy should be coming two weeks from now… I have Nicky just before I have…Duncan. _Courtney moved her body to face the ceiling.

The reason why she became a therapist was because she wanted to help people. This is queer coming from one of the most volatile, impatient girl, but it's true. She wanted to do something that she wouldn't think of doing and wouldn't match her; and she just wanted to…help.

She didn't know why she was so hung up on Duncan. This was by far the worse client she ever got—aside from Nicky and other people. Courtney always knew how to get through people. They usually told her the basic things about themselves, and the hard part comes—but Courtney could do it. Now when it's _Duncan_, he's already hard to get through when it's just the basics. She only knows _his full name_.

Yes, Courtney knows that he's having relationship problems with his girlfriend, but Gwen said so herself: it's just a cover up. Though Courtney had a feeling Gwen was hiding something; she wanted Gwen to tell her that. There was something else, but Courtney just doesn't know _what_.

Then about Duncan's problem with Gwen being the same as what his sister had before. Just what was that all about? How will Courtney get Duncan to budge?

Courtney groaned. _I need more _Tylenol_._

**. . .**

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

"Answer the fucking phone, or so help me—"

"Hello—who the hell is this?" It was Duncan; he sounded tired.

Courtney immediately sat up from her bed, gulping audibly. "Um," she said in a deep voice, "this is…Cody. Is Gwen there? If, uh, she is, can I speak with her…dude?"

"Hey, are you the obsessed stalker she put a freaking restraining order on during high school? Dude, I'm going to call my nerd slave, and I'm going to track you down and beat the wimpy shit out of you. Just you wait, man. I will—"

"Um, did I say _Cody_? What I meant to say was my name is…uh, Brody. Sorry for the mistake…man." Courtney scowled; she was terrible at this.

"Cody—Brody—whoever you are, I don't like to be lied to. It really pulls my nerves. I'm not going to make you speak to G—"

Courtney got annoyed. "Hey, D—" she realized that her voice went back to normal "—man! This is Brody from the interstate facility of interdisciplinary resources…foundation! If you don't give the phone to her right now, _I _will be forced to go over there and take drastic measures."

Silence greeted her from the other side. Then she heard a sigh. "Well, dude, you should've told me that in the first place. And do you have trouble remembering your name? Ah, whatever; just hold on first and make sure your tidy-whities don't get caught up in a freaking knot."

Courtney breathed a sigh of relief quietly. She heard some mumbling sounds and curses. She assumed that they were fighting over the phone.

"Now, see this is why _women _are better than mere _boys_. This is proof; I won over the tug-o-phone over the guy who works out at times. Don't tell me those muscles are for show only, _honey pie_." Gwen laughed. "Uh, hello? I don't know who the hell is the interstate of blah-blah-blah. That was Duncan's words, not mine. So if you—"

"Gwen, it's me—Courtney."

"Cour—um, Cour…nelius? Brody Cornelius? Oh, I have forgotten all of the—I have to go outside and take this, Duncan. Go sleep without me. …No, I don't want to play a game with you, asshole. Yeah, bye." She heard a door shut. "Okay, why'd you call? Duncan will know if I'm lying or not, you know."

"I know, but you have an excellent poker face, so you mustn't worry about that. Anyways, have you heard about what happened between me and Duncan? We had an immature dispute in the park earlier today; he caused a scene and…tempers flared." She winced when her anger took over her. _Why the hell did I blurt out "You don't know what I've been through, either!"? _

"No, he didn't tell me. Like I said, he doesn't tell me much about what happens with him and stuff. Wait, did you tell him about our secret meeting together?"

"I did, but I didn't tell him what you told me—only that we had a rendezvous. He got mad when I didn't tell him _everything_."

"That's why he looked so pissed when he came home. He didn't get mad at _me_, though. Why is that?" Gwen questioned.

"He must be mad at me _more _then. He is just so—_ugh_! I can't believe that he would—"

"Duncan, what are you—?" There were noises. "Hey, Brody, this is Duncan. I got one question: are you gay? Because if you're not, I don't want you to be talking to Gwen anymore. I already got one guy to watch out for, which reminds me of that nosy therapist…"

"What _nosy therapist_?" Courtney asked, left eye twitching.

"None of your fucking business, Brody. She's no one important, anyway; just a bitch."

Courtney pressed the _end _button hard and threw her telephone to the wall angrily. She pulled up her knees to her chest, feeling completely enraged. She's never been this angry before. She just wanted to hurt someone right now. It's a good thing she lived in her own house alone. If someone entered…there will be a World War III; Courtney versus the entire world.

She stifled the tears threatening to come out.

* * *

**TBC.**

**[Ooh, drama.]**


	4. four

_Oh, please, just shut _up_! _

Duncan's left eye twitched as his old middle and high school classmate Harold, also the number one victim of Duncan's taunts, fists, and, most of all, high jinks back in the day, talked animatedly about how his career was going. Harold works at a graphics designing company and was currently one of the top graphics designers—or so he said.

"Did you know that we're trying to make an animated logo for the _Mac _Company? Apparently they heard about our awesome designers"—he winked, pointing his thumb towards his scrawny chest—"and wanted to do something really cool with their—"

Duncan dumped Harold's suitcases on the ground, sighing loudly. He dug through his pocket to find the key card. He took it out and roughly shoved the key card in the slot, seeing the green light. He pulled it out, opened the door, kicked Harold's stuff in, and pushed Harold in.

"Whoa!" he yelled. He stumbled on the ground on his stomach; luckily the ground was carpet-covered. "It's nice to see that _you _haven't changed, Mr. Bully."

"It's nice to see that _you're_ still the talkative dweeb who has the lamest comebacks ever, _Doris_." Duncan laughed, kicked him on the side, and left, whistling.

He pressed the _up _button that was contiguous to the elevator and waited until the elevator came. He stuck his hands in his pockets, still whistling a random tune. His eyes roamed around and landed on the little list of the elevator buttons. He rolled his eyes when he saw the sauna. _Went there, _he thought. _It's not even steamy. _As soon as he saw the word _Court_, his whistling ceased.

_Court—ney. _

Duncan scowled and looked away from the mocking list. He didn't go to the therapy session and even to all of his other sessions with Courtney. He's been avoiding her, and has grown tired of Miranda's continual calls about his scheduled sessions. He thought for sure after their last contact with each other, which made Duncan wince as he saw Courtney's pained face, she would give up on helping him.

"Hey. Are you going to ride in or not?" a man from the elevator asked rudely, interrupting Duncan's reverie.

Duncan shook his head and went in quickly. The man rolled his eyes at him and pressed the _close _button. It was a silent ride; all that was heard was the elevator music, which made Duncan grimace for he _despised _elevator music. It was too…yucky to him for some unknown reason.

He sighed, the feeling of remorse appearing in his heart yet again. He unconsciously clutched his chest, trying not to wince. He joked around with girls a lot and teased them, but when he saw a pained face planted on, he regrets it. He _especially _hated it when they cry; he didn't know what to do.

Helplessness was not his forte.

Duncan heard the elevator bell go _ding _and the man went out, muttering on how "It took so long just to go to this floor." Duncan chuckled and was about to press the button when he heard someone yell out, "Wait! I'm coming!"

Duncan put his hand on the door to keep it from sliding close. He waited for the girl, who was taking so long and irking Duncan. Suddenly the girl came into view, and Duncan took his hand off of the door, pressing the button.

"What floor?" he asked the girl, who was panting heavily. "What _floor_, woman?" He got irritated.

The girl shot her head up. "Oh. Um…lobby. Sorry," she muttered.

Duncan rolled his eyes and pressed the _lobby _button hard. He sighed deeply and put his hands back in his pockets. The elevator music made his irritation towards nothing even worse. It made him grind his teeth a lot.

"_You don't know what I'VE BEEN THROUGH, EITHER!"_

"_Duncan, we need more trust between us. Every time I go out, you always think that I'm with Trent."_

He cringed. All of the penitence inside of him was giving him recollections of what has happened. It sucked for him, because they weren't all happy and stuff like how recollections usually were.

Duncan just wished all of this weren't happening. He wouldn't have to deal with all the quarrels he has with Gwen and they would be back to where they were: all happy and no drama affecting it. If Trent didn't come back, none of this would've happened in the first place.

But that would mean he wouldn't have met Courtney.

"Hey…are you okay there?" a feminine voice asked next to him. "You look like you're in pain, you know."

Duncan stared at her emotionlessly. "I plead the fifth," he said.

The girl laughed. "Going serious over some simple question, eh? Well, I was just wondering; I'm sorry if I offended you or whatever."

"You didn't." He blew out a deep breath.

"I thought you were pleading the fifth?"

Duncan chuckled. "Wise, aren't you, sweetheart? To answer your question earlier, I'm okay. It's just that certain events—" He stopped. He wasn't going to spill out his problems to a girl he doesn't even know _at all_. Perhaps Duncan has been keeping his problems locked up inside that if a person asks if he was "okay," then it might just go tumbling down like an avalanche. "Uh…never mind."

The girl smiled softly. "It's all right, man. You don't have to tell me anything." She sighed. "It's weird on how just by asking one simple question everything will just go splat, right?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean…" _I _really _do, _he added.

The girl's face saddened. "You always wish that you could erase all of the drama and help that special someone, right?"

Duncan was taken aback. "Er…that was a sudden change of topic, but…yeah, I agree with you, I guess." He scratched his cheek softly, feeling awkward all of a sudden.

"I wish to go to Malibu, you know. To—" The girl stopped, furrowing her eyebrows. "I can't leave her…"

Duncan didn't know what the hell she was talking about. She was muttering random sentences, but, surprisingly, he understood her. She's having inner problems; he was, too. And they both don't know how to solve it.

The elevator went _ding_, and as soon as the elevator doors slid open, the girl rushed out, muttering, "Don't make her do that again… Help her…"

Duncan put both hands on the sides of his mouth and shouted out, "You'll figure it out, Malibu!" earning some strange looks from some of the passersby. He glared at them, and they looked away. He leaned back against the wall, smirking as he still got his inerasable intimidating skills.

His eyes caught the _Court _button, and his smirk slipped off of his face. He groaned, suddenly remembering Courtney—and his problem with Gwen. It just always came back to haunt him. And he realized some things:

Elevator rides were long, and he forgot what floor he was supposed to go to.

**. . .**

Duncan dragged himself to the living room couch and plopped on it, sighing in relief. He threw the keys to the coffee table in front of him, placing his hands in the back of his head. He closed his eyes and—

"What, no 'Honey, I'm home!' anymore?" the voice he dreaded to hear said near him. "Ugh, Duncan, open your freaking eyes. We need to talk."

He winced, hating those four words. It's not like he was _afraid_—Duncan Taylor was _not _afraid of anything whatsoever—but he just knew that whenever someone said _We need to talk _it usually started some heart-to-heart conversation…which Duncan didn't principally like.

He opened his eyes, sighing out loud, and sat up. He patted the spot next to him, making Gwen smile a bit. She walked around the sofa and sat down slowly. The ambience turned serious.

"You…know about my meeting with Courtney, right?" Gwen asked quietly.

The mention of her name made Duncan frown. He didn't like where this was going. "Yeah. Don't worry, though; I'm pissed off at her, not you."

"But _why_?"

"Well, she was the one being all nosy. I get that she's my therapist and she wants to help out and shit, but going _that _far? She said so herself in the beginning that everything that we say in that office is confidential. It's not like I don't trust you"—she gave him a look when he said that—"but it's just that…" He groaned. "I don't know, Gwen. She's irritating."

"She's just doing her job, Duncan," Gwen said gently. "I don't blame her for snooping in. Besides, we both gave her permission to do all of those things. The minute I assigned her to you…it just triggered it, you know? She can do whatever she wants in order to help you—_us_, I mean."

Deep down inside, Duncan didn't think that Courtney was irritating. He just can't explain it, but he felt _flattered _that she went that far for _him_. Sure it was aggravating for Duncan, but still—no one ever went that far for him, _not even Gwen_.

Well, Gwen _was _helping Duncan by sending him to therapy. But that's just it—she's making some other person help him. Duncan knew that Gwen was headstrong and caring, but perhaps she just can't do anything now.

And now Duncan knew now that it's unfair to put all the blame on Courtney.

"What'd you tell her?" Duncan asked, eyes looking straight at Gwen's. "Did you tell her anything about me? Since it's about me, _obviously _I should know about it."

Gwen's eyes widened a bit. She took a deep breath. "I just told her the basic stuff—you know us having problems with our relationship and stuff. She asked who Trent—or might I say the _'ass'_—is." She glared at him. "I really don't like you calling Trent an 'ass.' He didn't do anything wrong, you know. I haven't seen him in a _long, long _time. He's a good guy, and—"

"Hey, since when did we go from talking about what you said to Courtney to talking about 'the good guy' Trent? Stop stalling, Gwen. I know that you told Courtney something…about me."

"You're too suspicious for your own good."

"Past life experiences can do that to you, honey."

Gwen sneered at him and looked away. "I…I told her about what happened to your sister…"

Duncan couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He just sat there staring at his girlfriend, open-mouthed. He didn't know how his jaw slacked open, but it was there, hanging. Emotions went haywire throughout his body, spreading out fast. The fastest emotion, though, came out of his mouth instantly.

"Why the _fuck _did you tell her that, Gwen?!" Duncan shouted at her. "Why, huh?! That was something between you and me only! How could you do that?! Why'd you tell her?!"

Gwen's face turned furious. "Well, I had to do what I had to do in order for me to help you properly! Do you know how it feels like when you can't do anything to help that special someone?!"

"I _do_! When my sister…" He trailed off. He couldn't tell her; he didn't have faith in her anymore. "I _trusted _you, Gwen! _I fucking trusted you_!"

"Yeah, whatever, Duncan! You only told me that your sister had the same problem we are having right now! That's not enough, okay?! You need to tell me _everything_! What can I do to help you?! What's bothering you, Duncan?! Don't you…love me enough to tell me?" For the first time in Duncan's life, her voice broke. _Gwen Matthew's voice broke._

Duncan felt guilty. But she wasn't the victim; she was the one who caused this—even that ass Trent. "At least I trusted you enough to tell you about my sister, Gwen," he whispered. "I do…love you, but you know how hard it is for me, don't you? You knew that I was suffering during my middle and high school years. I couldn't go to my mom anymore—and I was tight with my mom…before. Now ever since…" He sighed, and then stood up. "I'm gonna go."

Gwen glowered. "Running away again?" she spat.

"No. I'm just going to go for a walk—clear my head of things. See you…whenever I feel like it." Hesitantly, he bent down and kissed her warm cheek and left, grabbing his keys and jacket.

He bounded down the stairs of their apartment, feeling dead. He walked to his car and got in, starting the engine. Quickly, he drove out of the parking lot, eager to get away from the drama inhabiting his home now.

_Why the hell does shit happen to me all the time, man? _he thought to himself. _What did I do to deserve this freaking mess? Tch. Always "why, why, why," right? You're fucking pathetic, Duncan. Making that therapist do all your—_

Courtney.

He hasn't seen her anywhere—as stated before, he didn't go to the sessions; he didn't see her outside in the park, grocery store, everywhere! It's like ever since their heated argument they suddenly don't see each other anymore. Duncan missed teasing her.

Emanating in his heart was… Ah, he couldn't explain it. _What was that saying in every damn book I had to read for literature class? Uhhh… Oh, yeah; "No words could express what I'm feeling right now." Well, that's cheesy and stupid._

Duncan's eyes suddenly found the building—Courtney. His left hand turned the steering wheel, and the car drove inside the parking lot. Duncan didn't know what he was doing. Courtney must be at home right now, doing whatever. It was like someone was controlling him.

_What am I doing?!_

He took his keys, stuffed them in his pocket, and got out of the car, heading towards the building. The sign said "We're Closed," but the door was unlocked. Well…it wasn't, but Duncan picked up some "unlocking" techniques in his elementary school years.

Yeah, he's that bad.

Duncan felt the air con hit his face immediately as he stepped in. He closed the door quietly, afraid that the cold air would go outside. The front desk was empty, and so he went up the stairs. He suddenly heard a keyboard clacking about somewhere. His ears followed the noise. He pressed his right ear on the door, listening in.

_There._

He opened the door loudly and came face to face with…Miranda—who looked irritated at him. She had a lollipop in her mouth. He heard a crack and he assumed it was the lollipop.

"How the _hell _did you get in, you bozo?" Miranda snapped. "I locked the door—"

"Yeah, well, you didn't lock it carefully, so…" He shrugged, proud of what he did. "Uh…can you tell me where, um, Courtney's at…?"

Miranda snorted and began typing professionally. "Why? You don't seem to come to your sessions anymore. I thought that you found another therapist worth your freaking time. So what business do you have with her _now_?"

Duncan rolled his eyes. "I just… Well, you see, I wanted to—" He stopped, speechless. _What _do _I want to do with Courtney? Apologize? Tease her? Get mad at her? Kiss her—eh, no._

Miranda sighed, rubbing her temples. "Okay, she's not here, got that? She left already, like a few minutes ago. She likes to use the back door to leave. I'd tell you to go after her, but I guess she's already gone, what with that stamina and crap…"

Duncan's hopes died. He muttered a quiet curse and scrambled out of the room. Why did he want to talk to Courtney so badly? He just really didn't know what he wanted to do. He ran towards the back door Miranda said earlier.

Then he stopped.

Miranda's right—she must be gone already. She's not here anymore. She's at home, most likely. She's probably stressing out over insignificant—they're insignificant to Duncan, anyways—crap.

Duncan blew out a raspberry and turned around. He started walking to his car. He grimaced. _Now I have to walk to my car. What the hell's going on with me? Really, man… _He suddenly heard whispered shouts coming up ahead. He quickened his speed and followed the whispers.

"But you have to pick me up! My fucking car broke down, and you want _me to walk_?! You must delusional, you—I didn't say that someone else was going to pick me up! Are you having auditory hallucinations, Bridgette?! Well, you must be, because I don't recall saying such a thing! I do _not _suffer from short-term memory! I—I'm still young and fresh; I'm not going to be suffering from the old age symptoms just yet. I—Bridgette? Bridgette?! Fuck! Bridgette! Did she just fucking hang up on me?!"

Duncan laughed to himself at the humorous display in front of him. Courtney, the girl he subconsciously wanted to see, was sitting on the pavement, glaring at her _Sidekick_. Her legs were spread wide open, and that made Duncan tempted to walk in front of her since she's wearing that damn short pencil skirt.

He put his hood up making sure his Mohawk wasn't showing much. Then he walked casually towards her, whistling. He stopped right in front of her. The streetlamp was behind him, making it harder to look at his face. _Awesome, _he thought. _Now let's see how Princess will react._

Courtney looked up and squinted. "Who are you? Are you some rapist, molester, or pedophile of some sort? Well, if you are, I will kick your ass all the way to…Chile, got that, you freak? I'm not having a good day today, and if you try something on me…oh, you better pray you have a death wish because—"

Duncan realized that Courtney gets loquacious when she's angry. But then again, doesn't everyone? He put his hood down and smirked when he heard her gasp out loud.

"D-Duncan?!" Her eyes turned icy. "Well, what do you want? Are you here to mock me because I have no ride? _Ohh_, do not tell me that you heard my phone call with Bridgette!"

"I would, but then I'd be lying, sweetheart," he replied. "So…isn't that position a little bit…I don't know…_inappropriate_? I mean, you're wearing a short pencil skirt yet again and your legs are wide open as if you're going to give birth. Princess, that pose is dangerous." He shook his head in mock-disappointment at her.

"Shut up. Now, if you're done joking around and pretending as if that altercation we had days ago was nothing, then I recommend you leave me. I'm perfectly fine with my legs wide open—or maybe not." She moved her legs together. "But I'm perfectly fine sitting here and then walking all the way to my house _all by myself_. This will be the last time you've ever seen me, Duncan Riley Taylor. Goodbye and it was _not _nice working with you." Her face looked business-like.

Duncan rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Eh, you're pretty stupid, you know that? I'm not and will not ever leave a fucking sexy-ass girl sitting down in the middle of the street with a short, tempting skirt alone at night. That's just messed up. I suggest you come with me and let me drop you to your home like a good little princess or else I'll stay sitting here with you until I can no longer control my hidden—or not hidden—sexual desires. I'm a man with hormones running amuck inside my system— you have been warned."

Courtney stared at him with wide suspicious eyes. She then smiled, rolled her eyes, and lifted up her hand slowly. "Pick me up? Since I'm a princess you should be gallant towards me; princesses should be handled with the utmost care, you know."

Duncan snorted and waved her off. "You have hands and legs, babe. Pick yourself up."

She glared at him. And then he laughed, grabbing her hand roughly, pulling her up with ease. He pulled her towards where he parked his car quickly.

"Hey, Duncan! I'm glad that you picked me up, but you have to—!"

"Ah, shut your butthole, Princess. Just be glad I'm actually doing this damn thing for you." He debated on whether or not he should say this, but he did. "And we'll talk while I drive you home," he added quietly.

Courtney didn't say much. "Okay," she said finally.

Duncan gave her hand a light squeeze and a smirk. He then continued leading her to the parking lot. For the first time, he wasn't going to hold back—eh, probably.

* * *

**TBC.**

**[Can I have some high school tips? I desperately need them; I'm moving to a new house, and I'm going to a high school where my friends aren't going. D;]**


	5. five

It was really hard to explain the awkward ambience floating around in the car.

The radio blasted some rock music, which Courtney didn't quite comprehend, and Duncan was singing along quietly to it. His head was moving up and down slightly and his pointer on the steering wheel was tapping along with the music. All Courtney did was lean her chin on her hand, staring at him with her peripheral vision.

She sighed and leaned back against the head rest of the car seat. Boredom got beaten up by irritation, and now the current emotion was…irritation. Courtney's fingers were twitching—as if they were aching to hit something. There was a lion ready to tackle the prey.

"Another junkie, who lives too fast. Lives way too fast, fast, fast, fast—," Duncan was singing along inaudibly.

Courtney groaned out loud, shutting off the radio in the process. She punched Duncan on his forearm just to take out her anger. She restrained herself from giving him _much more_ than that one measly punch.

She stared at him, waiting for his reaction.

Then he hissed in pain, jumping up slightly from his seat. His hand accidentally swerved a little off the lane, almost hitting the convertible near him. He steered the car back to where it was instantly. He glared at her.

"What the hell was that for?!" Duncan snapped. "Here I am, innocently singing along to a song I sort of like, and you just suddenly punch my arm like a psychotic, bi-polar, mentally retarded freak-o! What's your problem, woman?!"

"Oh, I'm _so sorry_; I'm prone to having some muscle spasms as you can see," Courtney answered astringently.

"Yeah, I believe that. Your muscle spasm made you move your right arm all the way to mine and _accidentally punched me hard_! If you were at the hospital, they'd mark you as 'unidentified,' or immediately send you straight to the cuckoo clinic."

"That's so amusing. _I _wasn't the one who had a terribly late reaction after my unintentional muscle spasm—but I shouldn't say _unintentional _because muscle spasms _are already unintentional_!" Then she was silent for a while. "Now I completely went off-topic."

Duncan chuckled. "Well, I forgive you for your unintentional but not really unintentional because it's already unintentional muscle spasm, Princess." He let go one hand off the steering wheel and gently patted her hand. "Oh, nice arm, by the way," he added, impressed.

Courtney felt complacent. "Thanks," she muttered. "Okay, all joking aside, the reason why I punched your arm was because I wanted to get your attention."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Jeez, you should've used your mouth, babe. With those vocal chords, you can be louder than a screaming banshee—and banshees are _loud_, man." He shuddered.

"I know, but…whatever." She sighed, putting on her mature face—as if it wasn't there already. "Let's talk. You said so yourself. I clean my ears; I don't have auditory problems—unlike someone I know…" She scowled.

"Was that your friend 'Bridgette'?" Duncan asked.

"Yes." She shook her head. "Anyways, let's talk now. No distractions, no hesitations. Go."

"_I'm _starting? Well, what the hell am I supposed to say? I don't want to just start talking about that fight we had in the park, you know. It's like…running in a race before the gun was shot—or something." He scratched his cheek awkwardly.

Courtney giggled. "You're good at analogies," she noted, surprised and awed. "But I disagree—we have to start from there; it's the root of the problem."

"Uh, _no_, babe. The root of the problem is…me. My fucking trust issues and my problem with Gwen. They're not only affecting me, Gwen, and probably Trent; they're affecting you also since you're my therapist and all… What I'm trying to say is—is—is s-s-s-sorry!" He let out a deep breath. "Damn, I'm not used to that."

"Everyone should be, loser." She was smiling smugly.

"Yeah, but I'm only used to it during certain circumstances, you know? Usually when I'm beating up a puss, he'd be all like, 'Oh, great, mighty Duncan, I'm sorry; please don't beat the wimpy shit out of me!' or when it's a hot girl, she's all like, 'Duncan, I'm so sorry that I was bad in bed—'"

"Shut up! That's totally off-topic and too much information for me. Just get on with it." She then remembered what he said. "I'm really grateful that you were brave enough to say something you don't usually say…in _this _circumstance. I…_might _accept your apology in the near future."

Duncan gave her a look of disbelief. "What the hell, Princess?! Just forgive me now, and I won't have to bug you about."

"Ugh, fine, fine."

"Now that I said sorry, which should be said at the end of my explanation, I should say that I do have trust issues, as I said earlier. I admit it. For a long, long time, I've been having these trust issues and I've been acting in denial about it. It's just that things in my past life have affected my trust towards my friends and other people. Did you know that I've never talked to my parents for seven years? Ever since—"

"The incident between your sister and someone…else," Courtney finished for him hesitantly.

Duncan didn't say anything else. Courtney saw how his grip on the steering wheel got tighter and tighter. She hit a soft spot—now he's remembering everything…

Words came out of her mouth without consent—though she didn't stop it. "I'm sorry. For being a fucking therapist, for being nosy, for not being confidential, for knowing about your sister…everything… I'm sorry." She looked down at her hands, biting her lip. "I'm not used to saying sorry, as well, so I guess you shouldn't feel uncomfortable about all of this."

Duncan suddenly turned the car sharply to the gas station near them. He parked messily near another car and moved the lever to _park_. He looked at Courtney, grabbed her face, and planted a soft, chaste kiss on her surprised ones.

_What the hell, what the hell, what the hell?! He's _kissing me_! _Courtney yelled frenetically in her mind. _What he is doing?! Did he lose his brain somewhere in the vehicle?!_

Duncan pulled away quickly, pushed the lever to _drive_, backed up, and drove right out of the gas station area. He looked completely unperturbed.

Courtney stared at him, jaw hanging wide open. She snapped it close right away, turning red with anger.

"_WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT, YOU PERVERTED, TRAITOROUS SHIT-SACK?!" _she roared loudly.

"Oh, jeez, Princess. I'm not cheating on Gwen. You could say that was a sign of thanks and forgiveness. It was a simple, harmless kiss. It's a _friend _kiss. I kissed you before, too. Nothing to get all worked up for," he replied nonchalantly. "Your lips feel like they're hungry for more—and they're soft; makes me want to kiss you again." He winked at her.

She blanched and rubbed Duncan's residue from her cheek roughly. The thought of him kissing her again made her feel repulsed to the max. "I'd rather go and make out with my old boyfriend, thank you very much." _Or not, _she added, shuddering.

"Oh yeah, you still didn't tell me who your ex-boyfriend is. Come on; tell me—you know you _want _to, honey." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Enough with those superfluous pet names, Duncan. And anyways, why would I tell you something about my past life when you won't tell _me _about _your _past life? I mean, if you tell me something about you, which might help me with your, ah, problems, then I'll tell you something about me. Anything you want; no dishonesty hidden within," she promised.

"And if you go back on your word?" He was slowly getting influenced.

Courtney childishly crossed an _x _over her heart. "'Cross my heart and hope to die,'" she quoted.

"No need for a talk of death here, 'kay? Makes me feel uneasy, you know. Death reminds me of…hospitals." He shuddered.

Courtney rolled her eyes at him. She turned her head away, looking out the window. She was glad that she was on good terms with Duncan now. She no longer felt the tension surrounding them as they conversed; she felt like they were just regular friends, helping each other.

Courtney will soon break that wall Duncan made. It has been standing there for years. Courtney slowly broke the wall bit by bit meticulously, gently. And when it's time, she will just eradicate it once and for all.

Trust issues are a serious matter. Most definitely it will affect those who want to be your friend, want to get to know you, your loved ones, and yourself, especially.

Of course, you can't just be _born _with trust issues. There must be some past life experiences that might've created the _I-don't-trust-you-so-back-away _demeanor. So, Courtney has to help Duncan get rid of his past problems, solve it, and then she can work with him with his trust issues.

_Simple as that, right?_

"Hey, Princess…where do you live?"

**. . .**

Courtney went through her breast pocket and found her small house key. She inserted the key in the lock roughly, opening the door. She stepped to the side, holding her arm out to the house.

"You can go inside now; close your mouth, too," she ordered. "Jeez, it's like you've never seen a house."

Duncan grinned eagerly and practically almost ran inside the house.

Courtney laughed to herself, closing the door, and locking it safely. She followed Duncan who was looking around in the kitchen, eyes wide with awe.

"Hot damn, Princess. You must be loaded to have crib like this extravagant one." He whistled lowly. "This place is big—who do you live with? Where are your parents?"

Courtney's jaw then locked tight. She looked away from him, tracing lines on the marble counter with her pointer. "Somewhere out there," she replied impassively.

Duncan looked like he was about to say something, but he closed his mouth quickly, frowning. _Good choice, _Courtney thought.

"Let's go to the living room, Duncan."

As they both sauntered in the living room, sitting on the large, plush sofa, Courtney turned towards him. Her face clearly showed that she still wanted to talk to him—that they weren't done yet.

Duncan sighed, muttering something indecipherable. "All right, we'll continue that serious talk about whatever. I thought for sure that you've forgotten, but I guess not. Okay, where do you want to start, Princess?" he inquired reluctantly.

"Normally conversations like this would just start without the other person asking _how _to start it. Duncan, in order for you to trust people more, especially Gwen, you have to talk. Don't avoid conversations like this, all right? Talking will help. And you should be informed that not everyone is treacherous. There are some good people…" She had trouble saying that.

Duncan's eyebrows furrowed. "Whoa, what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing…"

____

_Her father came towards her, holding a cute little teddy bear. "Sweetheart, this is for you, okay? Think of it as a late birthday present. It's from me…and your mother," he had said. _

_She took the bear slowly, no expression shown on her face. _

"_What would you like to name him? He's adorable, isn't he? See, a close friend of mine helped me pick this cute thing for you. You should thank her the next time she comes here; the last time she came here, you ignored her, and that's not very nice." His phone rang, and that fake smile vanished completely from his face instantly. He stood up from his kneeling position, and left, muttering words to the caller._

_She stared at the teddy bear long and hard, her grip on it getting tighter. She walked over to the trashcan, throwing the bear inside carelessly. Then she walked away to her bedroom—her safe place—with her permanent expressionless face on._

____

Duncan leaned back against the chair, facing the ceiling with a faraway gaze as he if was thinking about something else really hard.

"I'm going to try and be…open towards you and Gwen, Courtney," he murmured to her. "I mean, it's kind of hard for me, but yeah, I'll try. This is going to be for me and Gwen—partly for you, too." He gave her a teasing look. "Tomorrow, during our little session, I'll tell you something about…my sister, probably. I don't know, babe."

Courtney punched his arm. "You idiot, I'm not forcing you to spill out all of your personal secrets and problems all at once. Just take baby steps, okay? It's not good to skip steps from what I've experienced." She scowled.

Luckily, for Courtney, Duncan didn't question her scowl, for he was still staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, his phone rang, making both of them jump slightly. Duncan slowly got his phone out of his front pocket, answering it.

"Hell—? Whoa, whoa, sweetie! Calm down! Hey, I'm just at Courtney's house… Yeah, I know it's—it's _four o' clock in the morning_?! Are you serious, babe? We both lost track of time… Don't go acting like you're the one who has to be mad; I'm still pissed off at you…from, uh, yesterday." Courtney was confused on that part. "All right, all right, I'll come—what's with the PMS-ing, huh?! You told me you to come home and now you _don't _want me to go home? Ah, just whatever. Bye." He pressed the button hard, roughly stuffing it in his pocket. He looked at her sheepishly. "Uh…can I sleepover?"

Her response was quick, no vacillation. "Fuck no."

He laughed boisterously. "It's not like I'm going to steal all of your bras, Princess. I'm not the type," he defended himself. "Gwen's high school stalker Cody might be the type, but me? Nope."

The mention of the name "Cody" made Courtney remember that phone call, which was days ago. "Duncan," Courtney called. "Am I a 'bitch' to you?"

Duncan appraised her intently. He rubbed his chin jokingly, making the _hmm _sound. She watched disgustedly as his eyes went from her legs all the way to her chest, stopping there. A smirk grew on his mouth, and finally, his eyes went straight through hers.

"Define _bitch_, please."

"Ugh, don't play around, you vile buffoon. You know what 'bitch' means. In the _Webster's Dictionary_, 'bitch' actually means a female dog; but in the teenage dictionary, it means…well, _you know_." Her tone let out that she was implying something.

Duncan's pierced eyebrow rose. "Are you implying something, honey?" He waved his hand at her. "Never mind. You're not a bitch."

She wanted to smile, but in the inside, she knew he was lying. He did say so himself on the phone that day.

"You _act _like one," he finished, grinning.

Courtney slammed her pointy elbow on his thigh hard and smacked his face with her the palm of her hand. She watched amusingly as he doubled over, writhing in pain.

"I thought…you…wanted…honesty…Courtney," he managed to say. He slowly sat up, taking deep breaths, and glared at her. "I changed my mind; you _are _a bitch."

Fists clenched tightly, she grabbed Duncan by the arm roughly. She dragged him to the door without a word. She slammed it open, her grip still tight on Duncan's arm.

"Leave," she commanded coldly. She pushed him out of her house quickly.

Duncan turned around, looking highly perplexed. "What's wrong, Courtney? Hey, I'm sorry if calling you a 'bitch' hurts. I was just being honest, and that's usually the first step towards these kinds of things, right? Tell me what's wrong—was that too much for you? _What?_" he demanded.

Courtney didn't look at him.

"Fine, don't tell me, then." He sighed out loud. "We were just getting along fine when _you _switched to 'Drama Queen' mode. Maybe you PMS—and that might be true with your temper and the fact that you're a girl." He started walking away. "Oh, and just so you know—I'm not running away anymore. I'm going to that therapy session tomorrow whether you like it or not," he added, still walking.

Courtney watched him walk to his car. He went inside his car and immediately zipped right out of Courtney's lot, fading into the darkness.

She closed the door gently, and headed straight up to her room—her safe place.

____

_Her father was red with pure anger. He was clutching the teddy bear she had secretly thrown away. "How could you do this to me?! I asked you to be civil towards her, and you were completely disrespectful! Your mother and I didn't raise you like that, Courtney!" he had roared out loud to her._

_Courtney's anger immediately came out of her mouth. "Well, I don't like her, Father!" she answered back. She used to call him a lot "Daddy," but not anymore. "And anyways, Mommy doesn't like her, too! She told me! That lady is a disgusting woman in my view and pretty much to everyone else!"_

_Her father had just stared at her. She saw his grip on the teddy bear grow tight. He looked like he was about to turn purple. She just didn't understand why he liked that woman._

_Then he had said something that just changed her._

"_Since when did you become such a bitch, Courtney?"_

____

_

* * *

_**TBC.**

**[So much figurative language…]**


	6. six

Duncan walked down the streets sluggishly. Habitually, he would be up-and-running in the afternoon, but if you stayed up late until four o' clock in the morning and spent hours trying to find your best friend's house because you've got nowhere to sleep, then that's a huge exemption.

He saw many people pass by—joggers, people walking their dogs, families, and, which Duncan hated the most, couples.

They were all looking "lovey-dovey," and Duncan just wanted to puke on them. He could feel the cheesy love blistering out of them, and it just wanted to make him scream out loud to the heavens. It's like they were mocking him because of his situation with Gwen. It's not that he wished to be like that with Gwen, but because, well, he couldn't explain it.

He growled and walked faster to Courtney's building. His phone vibrated inside his pocket repeatedly, and every time he saw the name Gwen flashing on it, he immediately pressed the end button. He didn't want to talk to her. He's not much of a grudge-holder, but he was just still furious with her.

As soon as he walked in the building, he saw about three people in the waiting room watching CNN—though the volume was extremely low. He ignored them and went straight to the front desk.

"Hey, Jill," Duncan said flirtatiously. "I'm back. When is Courtney done with that person she's with right now?"

Jill looked up from her magazine and giggled softly. "Well," she started in her soft British accent, "sessions are frequently an hour or so. But with Nicky, which is one of Miss Neville's notorious clients, it'll take much longer—depending on how Nicky acts. She's a…special client, you could say."

He groaned loudly. "That's just real peachy. I'm going to go and interrupt their session so I can have mine with Courtney—our own is very important, anyway." He walked to the stairs.

"No, Duncan!" Jill protested. "You can't do that. Miss Neville will get infuriated. Those three people in the living room there are Nicky's loved ones—the mum, dad, and the fiancé." She pointed each at each of them specifically as she labeled them. "You'll just have to wait." She smiled apologetically.

Duncan blew out a breath exasperatedly and walked over to the waiting room unwillingly. He sat down on the sofa which was across Nicky's parents and fiancé. They merely glanced at him and then continued whispering some unknown language to each other.

He rolled his eyes at them conspicuously. He put his arms at the back of his head, leaning back, staring at the ceiling fan. He seemed to be doing this a lot. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.

__

_He and his family ate dinner quietly. All was heard was the sounds of forks and spoons on the plates and loud chewing—which were from his brothers. Duncan could feel his dad's stare penetrating in him. It made him want to grin, but he stifled it, knowing his mom would get mad at him._

_He put his elbow on the table, ignoring his wise conscience. __Here we go, he thought enthusiastically._

_"Duncan," his dad called in his deep tone. "Get your elbow off the table—that's improper table etiquette. You should know that; your mother taught you that."_

_He snickered silently, putting his elbow off the table._

_"It's not funny, young man."_

_"Ah, it's pretty amusing to me, _old man_. Did you know that you're predictable?" Duncan joked. "Mom even said so—that goes to show that I'm not lying."_

_His mom paled as his father gave her a disbelieving look. _

_"D-Duncan, be quiet and finish your food," his mom scolded, giving him the famous mother look. "Alan, don't believe him; you should know that Duncan has a _wide_ sense of imagination." She gave Duncan the look again._

_"Hey, bro," his younger brother Feyton said, "I heard that you got in trouble again in school. Were you playing around with hazardous, air pressurized cans?" He sent him a mischievous look and looked at his mom, who was fuming. She mouthed to Duncan that they were going to talk about that later._

_Duncan was about to throttle him, but his smugness held him back. "Yeah, I did. And don't go using such big, fancy shit words—"_

_"Duncan!" his mother yelled._

_"—Feyton. That just makes you nerdy and un-cool, got that? I don't want my little brother to be such a geeky wimp." He grimaced._

_"Duncan!" his mother yelled.._

_  
"Got it." Feyton nodded and continued eating his peas._

_He snorted. "Don't eat peas, too. Being a mama's boy is a total turnoff for girls, you know."_

_His mother narrowed her captivating teal eyes at him and hugged Feyton by the side. "Being a mama's boy is a gift, isn't it, darling? And I recall __you yourself being a mama's boy when you were young, Duncan." She smirked. Duncan got his smirk from her._

_"I—I was not!" he spluttered out in refutation._

_"Uh-huh, sure, Duncan," his older brother Caleb joined in, grinning. "What about that time when you ran to mom crying after you lost that soccer game when you were four? Or how about the time when you fell down the stairs and kept yelling out 'Mama, Mama!' when you were eight? I got plenty more, buddy."_

_"Shut up, Caleb. That was…different! I was feeling overwhelmed by my first lost! Mom was the only one there—you didn't know what the hell to do—and you know who much I hate doctors! With them and their sterilized shots, touching your shoulder a lot, and blithe personalities…" He shuddered._

_Feyton glared at him. "Hey, I thought you said using big, fancy sh—"_

_His mom gave him the death glare while Duncan and Caleb laughed._

_"—uh…words are nerdy and un-cool?! You used a big word! You liar!" He looked like he was going to punch him._

Yeah, I feel really intimidated by a sixth grader,_ Duncan thought, rolling his eyes. "Well, only I sound cool when I say it, so there."_

_Their mother shushed them and told them to finish their food. It was a typical Taylor family dinner. It was one of the only times Duncan's family gets together. But it wasn't complete; someone was missing._

_"Where's Elli?" Duncan inquired, referring to his younger and only sister Ellina, looking at the empty seat next to him. "Is she out with her boyfriend, friends?"_

_Duncan__'s dad snorted. "How the hell should we know?" he said harshly. "Just eat, Duncan. She'll come home…probably."_

_Duncan__ stared at the empty seat next to him again before eating, wondering where his sister was._

__

Duncan felt somebody tapping his shoulder hard.

"Wake up, you monkey-looking fool! You're embarrassing me! Wake the _fuck_ up!" a tough, feminine voice hissed icily, waking him up.

His eyes opened slowly, blinking a few times as well. He came face to face with Courtney, whose cheeks were red with anger. Her eyes would've scared someone so much that they would piss their pants off, and, again, Duncan was a huge exemption.

"Well, hello there, sunshine," he greeted groggily. "This is certainly an awesome way of waking up for me."

Courtney was shivering with pure rage. She mouthed, "I will kill you later."

Duncan mouthed back, "Can't wait, babe."

She swiftly turned away from him. "Oh, I'm sorry for the inconvenience! My client was slumbering—"

"Who the hell says 'slumbering'? Jeez, she acts as if she's old and shit," he muttered to himself.

"—you guys may leave now," she finished, having a slight irritated tone. Duncan grinned, knowing that she heard him.

The mom of Nicky, who was a short woman, smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you very much, Miss Neville dear," she said; she had an accent. "I am very proud on what you, ah, do. You take care of our little Nicky so, so well, _neni_."

The father, who was holding a bloodshot Nicky, smiled, as well, and turned to face the mom. _"Gutom kami. Mag _lunch_ tayo, ha,_ Linda_?"_ he said to her. Then he turned to Nicky_. "Halika, anak. Mag la-lunch tayo, _okay_? Gusto mo _KFC_?"_

Nicky just nodded, looking expressionless.

They all sauntered off outside, all smiles. Nicky suddenly came back and hugged Courtney tightly. Her fiancé came after her, looking wound up. He smiled when he saw Nicky embracing Courtney with such…love.

_"Salamat po,_ Courtney_,"_ Duncan heard her whisper to Courtney. She looked up at her with a soft, gentle smile. "I may not be healed yet, but I thank you for helping me so much. Usually all the therapists I've went to just immediately gave up on me."

Courtney smiled back, looking a bit awkward by the hug. "You're, uh, welcome, Nicky," she muttered.

The fiancé grabbed her by the arms gently as soon as he pulled away from Nicky. He smiled genuinely at Courtney before walking slowly with Nicky out the exit. Duncan heard him whisper, "You did such a good job today, Nicks. I love you, baby…"

It made Duncan feel uncomfortable.

Courtney's smile vanished as she looked at him. She gestured with her hand for him to follow her. When she passed by Jill, who unobtrusively winked seductively at Duncan, she nodded to her. Duncan felt her _I'm-your-boss-you-must-obey-me_ quality branch out of her body.

"Quite the ladies' man, are you, Duncan?" Courtney asked brusquely as they walked up the stairs.

Duncan coughed—"Jealous, are you?"—and coughed again.

Her fists clenched and tightened. Courtney loudly opened the door, almost making it slam against the wall outside of it. She stomped childishly towards her chair, plopping down, crossing her legs together, glaring.

Duncan whistled as he closed the door gently. He walked unflappably to the sofa a few feet in front of Courtney and sat down, leaning back, legs spread wide apart.

"Hey, Princess," he greeted, smirking. "Nice pencil skirt, by the way—did you wear that just for me, your hot, wonderful client? Oh, how congenial of you, baby."

Courtney rolled her eyes, grabbing her clipboard, clicking her pen. "Let's start now. Go and say what you want to say, Duncan. But please—you have to be serious about this. If you want to overcome your trust issues, I propose—or, better yet, demand—that you act your age and talk. That's normally the first step: talking," she explained, face looking all proficient.

Duncan rolled his eyes at her now. "Whatever, man. _But_," he started to bargain, "if I talk about…whatever I need to, will I get to ask you whatever…I want to? It's only fair for me and you—just saying, darling."

She looked like she was contemplating it. Duncan may be quite idiotic to certain things, but, at times, he can be quite perceptive. Now, in Duncan's surprisingly keen eyes, he saw that Courtney was slowly getting convinced.

"Fine," she relented. "But don't ask anything…too personal."

"Eh, that's for me to decide, honey." Then he took a deep breath, bringing serious side out. "When I was young, my family and I were tight. Seriously. We'd always do things together—it didn't matter if it was freaking ridiculous, but we did it. My dad was sort of like a killjoy with what we do, but he still goes along with it. I always suspected that he hated me." He chuckled. "Anyways, yeah, we were one, big, close family. I loved it.

"I'd always get in trouble at school. I practically had ADHD when I was young. It's not my fault; blame my genetics." He thought of his annoying father, grimacing. "My mom would scold me and blah, blah. My dad would have this upset look all the time. It's like he's always thinking, 'How the hell did me and Brenda'—that's my mom's name—'ever make this crazy child?' It didn't bug me, though; I was use to his constant criticism."

Courtney looked like she understood him.

"I was the second oldest—it was my older brother Caleb, me, my sister Ellina, and my younger wimp of a brother Feyton. My mom made this silly idea of us being in alphabetical order—A for 'Alan,' my dad, 'B' for my mom and so on and so forth, ending in 'F.' And it sucks for Ellina, right? What with her being the only girl…" He smiled at the thought of his sister. "I protected my sister Elli like for real, Princess. I was like the classic overprotective father Dad never was. Sure, he'd always have this disgusted look on when Elli brings in some freaks, but he'd never say his opinion out loud—unlike me."

"Of course," Courtney muttered.

"You know you love it, babe. So yeah, I protected my little sis a lot—I was the closest to her. We'd fight—me winning all the time—but we'd make up quickly. She wasn't like other girls: never caring about makeup, shopping, nails and shit… But she liked boys, of course; I was glad that she didn't turn over to _that __side_, if you know what I mean.

"Then Elli brought in this…" He trailed off. He didn't know why he didn't finish his sentence. Words didn't come out of his mouth. He saw Courtney waiting for him to keep on talking, but he couldn't. _What the hell? Why aren't I saying anything…?_

"Duncan, you don't have to say it right this moment if you're not ready," Courtney said tenderly to him. "I'm glad that you're starting with your family background. They seem like the type of family I would've liked…"

He raised an eyebrow at that.

"You said that if you shared a piece of information about yourself, I would say something about me, as well. I'm saying that I would've liked a family like that since my family is completely dissimilar than yours. They seem like…an adorable kind."

Duncan scrunched up his nose in revulsion. "Yuck, Courtney. You saying adorable makes me want to vomit out my generic tasting breakfast. It just…doesn't fit your mouth right. I'm used to you saying all those big words."

She scoffed. "Fine—I'll say this: your family is exceptionally endearing. And if you don't know, 'endearing' is a synonym for 'adorable.' At least I didn't say 'cute,' you know."

Duncan smiled a bit. But then he frowned. He thought he was ready to tell her about his sister. Courtney meant well, right? She was not the type to go outside, take out a megaphone, and scream to the people and cars, "Duncan's sister had the same problem he and his girlfriend are having! They're such pathetic fuckers, aren't they?! Ha, ha, ha, ha!" That's just so out of character for her, and Duncan knew that.

_Why can't I say it?!_

"We have plenty of time, Duncan. You don't have to dump everything on me right now, all right?" She wrote stuff on her clipboard. "Your past problems are still affecting of you as of now, yes?"

"Certain things and words generate the bad memories—you could say."

She scribbled more words on the paper. "Uh-huh… Duncan, these are your problems—you and your family's problems. Why are you putting this on Gwen, then? She didn't do anything. Hell, she doesn't even know a thing about it because of your trust issues. So…why?"

He sighed. "I don't know. I guess my trust issues are really…problematic now. It's, like, spreading around or something. I honestly don't know why I do this. It's like when she asks me something—doesn't matter if it's a simple question like, 'Where'd you go?'—a whole new me pops out. I start becoming all defensive and snappy and crap. I just can't control it."

"That's what happens. This is your body, your mind—control it. You're strong enough and you know that, Duncan." She had firm look on. It was like she believed in him greatly. "You can do it, you know. Therapy sessions are usually a step by step process and it is. It takes long—months, maybe even years—just to fix all of this. I'm here to help you even if that sounds so fucking lame to you. But it's true."

Duncan chuckled softly, playing with a thread on the pillow on his lap. "Thanks, I guess, Courtney. I thought this would be easy, me just spilling it out. I guess I'm not ready yet. I know I'll be ready, though; I can feel it. I'll tell you…and then I'll tell Gwen—maybe. If I can…" An image of Gwen appeared in his mind, making him flinch. "I don't know."

"Duncan, you _have _to know if you're ready or not. Okay, as of now, you won't be saying those three, unnecessary words anymore, got it? Now your only answers towards similar questions like, 'Are you ready?' or 'Can you do it?' are 'yes' or 'no.' It may not be easy, but your next step comes—honesty."

"Perfect."

"I don't need your cynicism now, all right?" She shifted around a little on her chair, clearing her throat. "Now about Gwen's ex-boyfriend—"

"No way in hell am I going to talk about that damn guy, nor will I ever say his damn name. His face will pop up in my head, and I'll get angry. I might even drive over to his house and beat the shit out of him, Princess."

She sighed. "We're going to talk about him whether you like it or not, you stubborn fool. Other than your trust issues, he's also the reason why your relationship with Gwen is excruciatingly rocky. You always think that whenever Gwen goes out you think she's with Trent."

The mention of his name made his fingers twitch. "That's 'cause she _is_!" he yelled out indignantly.

"Well, how the hell do you know, Duncan? Stop making an ass out of yourself and stop assuming. I'm pretty sure you know what it means when you _assume_, don't you?"

"Whatever. But still; he's—!"

Courtney cut him off quickly, "Duncan…can you _at least _you look at this situation in Gwen's perspective? Can you _try_—for her? How would you feel if Gwen always thinks you're out with some girl all the time? How would you like it if she doesn't trust you at all? How would you feel if she's always defensive when you ask a simple question? How would you feel, Duncan?"

He looked down at the thread he tore. It was a little thing. It didn't affect the pillow much. But he knew that if he kept on tearing the thread of the pillow piece by piece, it would be gone. It would be in pieces—just like the mirror.

Just like his relationship with Gwen.

_This was the reason why Courtney was so popular and successful, huh? She just gets into you, _he thought, smiling a bit.

"You're pretty deep, you know that?" Duncan said rhetorically. "What you said—or _asked_—just went _in_, you know? I haven't thought about that."

"Answer the question, then." It was a firm demand; he wouldn't back down.

"I would feel…hurt, betrayed, angry… I would feel a lot of negative emotions. Is that what Gwen's feeling? All of those emotions at once? This must be too much for her. I can't believe that I'm fucking do this to her… And we even got into a fight. I was being stupid."

Courtney smiled sympathetically. "What was the fight about?" she asked quietly.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I got mad at her when I found out that she told you about my sister…"

"I know that during sessions I shouldn't be saying this, but you're an exception as usual. You're a fucking idiot for doing that." She glared at him.

"At least I trusted her enough to say that!"

"Wow, Duncan. That's stupid. That's like showing the cover of the book, but not showing the inside, _the story_. She needs to know." She paused, looking like she was contemplating on something. "Do you love her, Duncan?"

He was taken aback when she asked that question.

"I…" One word just came out, nothing else. Then he turned angry—he didn't know why, but he was just plain angry. "Of course I do, Courtney! Why the hell do you think I'm here?! To talk to you as if we're friends?! No; that's because we're not friends. You said so yourself that it was _inadmissable_. I love Gwen. I love Gwen. _I love Gwen._ She's the reason why I'm here. I have a proposal for you, Courtney. You may give out your opinions, but you can't give out opinions like 'You're a fucking idiot' or 'Why the hell would do that, you damn monkey?' anymore, got that? It's annoying."

Courtney's face was impassive. No trace of emotion was planted on her face. "I understand." She looked at the clock up on the wall. "Your time is up. You may go now."

_Ugh, finally. _He got off of the sofa, stretching his arms out. He headed towards the door, eager to apologize to Gwen and make out with her. He missed her. And he regretted having that stupid quarrel with her. He was at fault, not her.

Before he stepped out of the threshold, he heard Courtney ask quickly, "Do you hate me, Duncan?"

Duncan turned around slowly, eyes wide with shock. He furrowed his eyebrows, blowing out a breath. "Well, that was out of the blue… But, uh, even though you constantly get so fucking annoying and kind of bitchy—I'm not saying you _are _a bitch—I don't hate you." He walked out, and then stopped. "I can never hate you, Princess," he added, and walked away.

He could have sworn he saw a soft smile appear on her usually angry face.

* * *

**TBC.**

**[Order of _Tagalog _translation:**

**1. "Little one" or "darling."**

**2. "We're hungry. Let's go eat lunch, Linda."—Filipinos tend to say _ha _in sentences, making a statement a question; it's like the word "okay." (Let's go eat lunch, okay, Linda?)  
**

**3. "Let's go, daughter."**—**anak** **can also mean "son"—"We're going to have lunch, okay? Do you want KFC?"**

**. . .**

**Bye, peoples.]  
**


	7. seven

Clasped hands shook back and forth from her chest.

"Bridgette, you _have _to come with me to this convention!" Courtney pleaded, pouting a bit. "If I don't go with someone there, I'll be looked at a lot! I'll be the only one without a date! _Please_?!"

Bridgette wet the dirty rag and wiped the counter in front of her scrupulously. She sprayed more _Windex _on the counter and continued cleaning. "I'm sorry, Court; I don't swing that way," she joked.

Courtney glared at her. "You know what I mean! I can't be alone—practically everyone there will be with someone! _I can't be alone!_"

"What's the convention about, anyways?"

"Well, it's more like a formal party for therapists. They're giving awards to some of them. I'm getting one for the 'Youngest Successful Therapist.' This is unbelievably important for me! Could you at least go there for _me_?"

She gave her an apologetic smile. "I would go, Courtney, really I would. I'd wear a freaking dress for you. But I have work—I don't have anymore day-offs now. I'm having a financial crisis here." She scrubbed the counters harder.

Courtney's anxious face softened as she said that. "I'll lend you—"

Bridgette held up a hand at her. "No. I'll do this myself. You earned that money yourself. I want to earn my own money, okay? I appreciate your help, but no, Courtney." Then she smirked. "Why don't you ask _Duncan_ to be your little date?"

"I'd rather drink that _Windex _over there. Besides, I can't bring my clients anywhere like that. Duncan is a client _only_." She doesn't know how many times she has said that, but she knew she said it a lot. "I don't want to go with a guy, either."

"Then go alone if that's what you don't want. It's your fault for not having a date in the first place with that kind of attitude. Just go with Duncan. No one will know he's your client since everything is all confidential and crap, right? And if those nosy girls there will want to know who he is, lie. It's as simple as that. You're making this so hard on yourself, you know."

Courtney hated it when Bridgette was right. She hated to even _think _this, but she liked it when she's the smart one, the one who's always right and rational. Now, all of a sudden, Courtney just can't think straight and makes the wrong decisions. Bridgette's her supporter.

She wasn't going to listen to her. No way will she go with that pervert.

"I'm not going with him and that's final." Courtney crossed her arms over her chest and walked away.

"It's your fault if you're alone!" Bridgette yelled out.

**. . .**

_Now who am I going to go with? _

She wrote answers on her notebook, doing her homework. She wasn't stressing out over it, because now she didn't have anything to do. Her homework wasn't due till next week, but since she's got nothing to do—other than find a date—she'll just do her homework.

It's not like she's trying to _forget _on finding a "date" to the party.

Duncan's smirking face appeared in her mind. She broke her pencil when that happened. She _does not_ and _will not _ever go on a date with Duncan Riley Taylor! Although this wasn't really a date, she still wouldn't want to go to a formal party with an animal like him. He wouldn't match in a tuxedo what with that ridiculous Mohawk on. She'll tell him to wear the tuxedo decently, and he will not wear a tie, wear those awful Chuck's, and make his pants low.

She could already see the image in her mind, and it made her not even want to go to the party. But she had to go, or else her reputation will be ruined. And besides, she wanted that award so badly. It would look perfect near her wall of achievements in high school.

Her phone rang, showing an unknown number.

"Hello?"

_"Courtney! Hi! It's me—Lindsay! I scheduled an appointment weeks—or months; I don't know—ago! I totally, _totally_ miss you!"_ Lindsay's girlie voice exclaimed from the other side.

Courtney's eardrums were aching.

"Why did you call me, and why do you have a different number, Miss Harrington?" Courtney asked brusquely.

_"I wanted to schedule another appointment with you—this time it's, like, for _real_-real, okay? And, well, my number was super old, so I changed it. You should save my number just in case."_

Oh, the things Courtney wanted to do to her… "I understand. How does next week Tuesday sound for you?" she suggested. "I only have two clients on that day…" _Ugh, Duncan_, she thought.

_"Hmm…"_ Courtney could imagine her tapping her chin, looking completely stupid. _"I don't _think_ I have any appointments that day. Okay then! I'll totally call you if anything!"_

She suddenly had the strangest beyond strangest idea.

_"I have to, like, go—"_

"Wait, Lindsay," Courtney said abruptly.

_"O-M-G, you called me 'Lindsay'! Oh, and that rhymes! That's so totally cool!"_ She squealed after that.

"Yes, it's fantastic. Lindsay, would you mind if"—_why am I doing this?!_—"you would go on a date with me?" She slapped her forehead when she said that. Her forehead stung, but she was too occupied with cussing at herself.

_"Um…I don't—I'm not a lesbian, Courtney. You're super-duper pretty and all, but—"_

"I'm sorry; let me rephrase that differently. Would you like to go to this party with me…as acquaint"—she forgot that Lindsay wasn't familiar with _that _kind of vocabulary—"I mean, as…sort of friends?"

_"We're friends?! You're so nice! And yes, I will go with you! I love parties! I'll be wearing midnight blue, so you should wear black, okay?! Bye-bye, Courtney! Love ya!"_ A dial tone was heard.

Courtney stared at her phone in shock. "Sort of friends, not _friends_, you dumb bimbo," she growled. She threw her phone to her bed. _Why the hell did I do that?! Ugh, that's just fantastic! Courtney, why are you so stupid now?! Could it mean that if you have a conversation with Lindsay, you lose brain cells? Could Lindsay be the human structure of alcohol? Or could she be even worse?!_

Great.

Courtney dragged herself over to her bed, collapsing on it head first. She rested on her stomach, head buried in her thick covers. There must be a rational resolution to why she was acting this way.

_"Because you stress yourself out too much," _Bridgette would say.

_"Most likely 'cause I'm around you, Princess," _Duncan would _obviousl_y say.

_"Because it's all your fault, Courtney; you're doing this to yourself, you ungrateful b—"_

Courtney winced and tried to fall asleep.

**. . .**

It was the day of the party. Courtney was still stressing out over it even though she has a "date" already. She felt uneasy with bringing Lindsay with her. She'll just ruin her reputation.

_"Oh, my gosh, why are there so many old people?!"_

_"Like, why are you speaking some other language? Is 'alien' a language?"_

_"Courtney, I forgot to put my shoes on!"_

Or something like that.

But she won't be worse than Duncan—hopefully.

Courtney felt like a huge hypocrite. During the last session with Duncan, she said that assuming is what asses would do. Now look at her, assuming that Duncan would be the clown of the party. She didn't care right now, though. He _would _stand out in a bad way. It was easy to imagine it.

Courtney stared at the black dress in front of her. This was the dress that Lindsay sent her early this morning. She knew that the dress looked designer—and that meant it was extremely expensive. She'd have to pay her back someday. Luckily, the shoes weren't all that high; they were black Cleopatra heels, which were two or three inches high. A note on the dress said, _"Your hair should be in a high ponytail! See you there, Courtney! Love you! XOXO, Lindsay."_

She was planning on just letting her hair down as usual. Her hair was medium-length, just stopping a few inches below her shoulder. She wanted to curl it, but she wasn't familiar with the curlers she has. Apparently Lindsay planned it all; this would most likely be the field that Lindsay specializes perfectly in. Wow.

Honestly, she didn't want to go to the party. She hated parties. She hated the liquor and the excessive gossiping certain girls do there. It was like high school all over again. To think that they would've matured. She also hated it when the men ogled her. Now she didn't want to sound vain, but it was true; they did. She especially hated it when they were pedophiles. _Do I only attract older, desperate men? Great…_

The doorbell rang, making Courtney jump slightly. She grimaced at the clothing in front of her before running towards the door quickly. She needed something—or, in this case, _someone_—to distract her. All this worrying was really not making it any better. She opened the door with a smile.

Then the smile ran away.

"Duncan. Just the person I desperately wanted to see," Courtney said sarcastically. She cocked her hip to the side, putting a hand on the other. "_What _are you doing here?"

Duncan yawned and placed his hands behind the back of his head. "I just wanted to tell you that Gwen and I made up. Emotionally and _physically_. Well…you know what I mean," he implied suggestively, winking.

"That makes me ecstatic."

"And I'm here 'cause I wanted to show you a demonstration."

She was about to slam the door in his face when he quickly stepped inside. Courtney closed the door, glaring at him. No choice but to let him stay here for _a while only_. She raised an eyebrow when she saw him appraising her body.

"Damn, Princess; you got curves." He whistled lowly. "Toned legs, gigantic rack, smooth, tanned skin…" He smiled lecherously. "If you wear those boy shorts every time I come here unexpectedly, I'd come everyday, babe."

Courtney gasped and blushed hardcore. She ran to her bedroom and fumbled through her drawers for some shorts. She _cannot believe _that Duncan saw her in those! Not even Bridgette knew that she wore those things. Large, slightly calloused hands gripped her forearms firmly, making her stop. She could feel his hot breath on her neck.

"You don't need to change, Princess. I already saw you in it—what's the point of covering it now? Besides, I'm likin' the view a lot. Don't ruin it with those unnecessary material." He pecked the nape of her neck.

Courtney couldn't move. Really. "Get the fuck away from me," she whispered menacingly. "Duncan, if you value your ability to make children, then I suggest you back away from me _right now_."

"Why?" More butterfly kisses were planted on her neck. "You know you like it. Why aren't you fighting back or yelling?"

"'Cause I'm too smart to use violence first."

"Uh-huh."

Duncan moved his lips all the way to her throat. His hands pulled her closer until she was trapped within his muscular arms. _He's warm, _she thought. Her chin angled up unconsciously as his lips traveled under it. Courtney felt hot all over. She moved her head to the side, eyes fluttering close. His lips went to her cheek, kissing the side of her right eye. His hands went down from her arm, resting on her hips. His thumbs went under her tank top, rubbing her flesh slowly.

Courtney wanted to moan _out loud_.

He started teasing her, kissing her on the corners of her mouth. Most of his fingers were under her shirt. She never moved, only her head when his lips traveled down and up. He kissed dangerously close to—

Courtney quickly spun around, kissing him feverishly on the lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closely, chests smashed together. Duncan chuckled a bit. His arms were wrapped around her waist, hands dangerously low. She stuck her tongue in roughly, feeling his tongue piercing. Tongues danced together, moved as one. His left hand moved to her stomach, going up and down. He then traced a line going down to her bellybutton and—

He pulled away, eyes wide. He immediately crouched down, forcing Courtney to let go of him. He yanked her shirt up, showing half of her dark purple bra. With his right hand, he grabbed a hold of something metal with his thumb and index finger.

"You pierced your fucking bellybutton?" he whispered incredulously. He stroked it, smiling. "Well, I'll be damned, Princess. Hell, this is seriously surprising. Despite your tendency to be violent and having an easy-to-trigger temper, you have a sexy dark side." He kissed her stomach.

Courtney walked away from him, staring out at the window. She was shocked. Terribly shocked. She couldn't believe that she made out with Duncan. _Duncan! _She allowed it, and she _liked it_! She didn't know what was wrong with her. Could it be that she was feeling sexually repressed for a long time that she just had to let it go when Duncan was seducing her? She knew it would happen someday, but…_with Duncan_?!

Absentmindedly, she touched her swollen lips, still burning from Duncan's passionate touch. It was if her body moved on its own. It just happened so fast, which was a pretty pathetic excuse in Courtney's personal opinion.

"Don't worry; I'm shocked as hell, too, sweetheart." Duncan appeared beside her, looking out from the window, as well. "I can't believe that happened. I feel…like a two-timing asshole. The asshole part is right, but the two-timing part…uh, not so much. I'm betraying her again. But I only kissed you; we didn't go all the way, thankfully."

Courtney looked at him in the corner of her eye. "What do you mean by 'thankfully'?" she questioned.

"If I didn't feel your bellybutton ring, I wouldn't have stopped, Courtney. I'm just being honest. We're both physically attracted to each other." She was about to disagree, but he gave her a quick kiss, instantaneously silencing her. "It's apparent, you know. Stop denying it."

She hated it. She hated all of this. But she loved it. She loved all of this. Not him, of course, but what they did earlier. She wanted to do it again; she can't deny it, like he said.

Duncan then looked behind him, raising an eyebrow. "What's with that fancy get-up over there?" He nodded his head towards the dress. "Are you going on a date or something?"

She shook her head, trying to repel the urges. _ They just __came. _"I'm going to a formal party with a girl," she said. "It's this therapist convention of some sort. Rich people will be attending there."

"So you're a lesbo?"

"I'm not a—" She smacked his arm. "Stop assuming that! Everyone seems to be assuming that!"

"Ouch! Well, I'm sorry, but the way you said that sentence automatically makes people assume that you're a lesbian! Excuse me for being like most people, Courtney." He rubbed his arm, pouting. "Jeez. You have man hands."

She ignored that and suddenly remembered her "date" with Lindsay. The uneasiness she was feeling came back. She was no longer distracted now. She looked at Duncan, biting her lip hard. She didn't want to go with Lindsay or Duncan, but…she didn't want to be thought of as a lesbian or someone who can't get a date, nor did she want to be seen with a clown.

But. Yeah, there's that annoying conjunction.

"Do you want to go with me, Duncan? J-Just as a friendly date, nothing more, all right?! Don't get too full of yourself. This is a one time thing!" she reminded him. "But before you say yes, please try to be on your best behavior."

Duncan snorted. "Who says that I want to go to a 'party' where there will be tons of therapists with hot dates, who must've been paid by those guys just to be their dates? I hate therapists; it'll be like a freaking nightmare. I'll grow insane. Though the girls might be incredibly hot…" He rubbed his chin, and then looked at her dress. "Oh, and I _definitely _want to see you in that sexy dress. Hm. Yeah, I'll go. Disregard that question I said earlier. Get ready for the time of your life, babe."

Now Courtney snorted. "Maybe I shouldn't have proposed it."

"Well, you did, and that was a good decision. Normally those formal parties are dull and all you talk about is how rich and successful you are. 'Oh, my business currently has the number one blah, blah, blah.' They say they get some, but they just pay the damn girls to get some. Or they lie. I choose the latter. Even if they pay the girls, even with that _amount of money_, the girls wouldn't have sex with _those _kind of men." He laughed.

Courtney looked at her alarm clock on the nightstand. She looked at Duncan, doing some mental math easily.

"Come here at five o' clock sharp. Don't be late. _Please _dress up nicely. And if Gwen asks, we're only going as, uh, acquaintances. I don't want her to assume that we're…you know."

Duncan rolled his eyes at her. "She's not like that. She's not like me." He frowned.

She didn't say anything after that. He knew what he did to her, but she didn't want to press any further on that. Those were his inner struggles. She had to get through him. She needed to know about his sister.

Soon.

**. . .**

Courtney didn't feel at all guilty about cancelling her "date" with Lindsay. As a matter of fact, she was irritated. All Lindsay did was whine and complain with her all-too girlie, irritating voice. Courtney was sure she was crying, as well—it's not like it affected Courtney one bit. She was too much for Courtney.

She grimaced as she stared at herself in the mirror. She smoothed down her dress again, eyes furrowed. She wasn't sure if she wanted to wear this dress. She knew she looked good, but she doesn't feel right with it. It didn't show much cleavage, and the length stopped a few inches above her knees. She wasn't used to the strap kind of heels, but they were okay.

It might make her taller than Duncan considering him being about four inches taller than her or so.

She lifted her hands up and tightened her ponytail. The hair on her neck was being pulled too hard, and if Courtney moved her head a lot, it would hurt even more. She was getting a major headache from it.

Courtney looked at the alarm clock; it was five-thirty already. She was fuming. _Doesn't he understand the words "five o' clock sharp"? I swear, if he doesn't show up, I'm going to do some illegal—_

She suddenly heard loud honking from below. She ran to her window gracefully in those high heels, seeing Duncan's car. She rolled her eyes and walked quickly down the steps, afraid she might trip and fall, grabbed her black, velvet clutch, and went outside. She opened the door to his car, buckled in her seat belt, and punched Duncan on his right cheek afterwards.

Duncan hissed and touched his cheek, glaring icicles at her. "What the _fuck _was that for, you psychotic, pain in the ass woman?!" he growled. "What, you want your _friendly date _to have a bruise on his right cheek? That was a smart move, Princess."

Courtney pushed the lever to _drive_. "Drive first," she commanded quietly. She was afraid if she said anymore or if she spoke louder she would snap and hit him again.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he drove out over the speed limit. "Now, tell me why you did that. I came here at the exact time you told me to come!"

"I said to come here at _five o' clock sharp_, not _five-thirty_. Can you clean your ears meticulously, please?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

She heard him mutter something unintelligible, and that made her think he was extremely childish—as if he wasn't. "Where's this boring convention at, anyways?" he questioned reluctantly. "You're lucky I know almost every destination in Canada."

"Yes, I'm absolutely advantageous to have a rebellious so-called 'badass' in the same car, going to the same _formal _party. I don't think the word 'formal' fits your personality very much. You would make a fool out of yourself and me most especially. Like I said earlier, behave or else I will have to do something to you that you wouldn't particularly like." She was quiet for a moment and then added, "Unless you're a masochist."

He didn't look fazed by her harsh statements. "I might be—but I get pissed off when people hit me. For you, I just get a bit irritated, but that's all. So does that make you a sadist?"

"I only enjoy your physical pain."

"That still counts." He smiled lecherously at her. "We're both compatible to do 'S and M,' you know."

Courtney tried so very hard not to stab him with her sharp heels. "Seriously, to what extent will you use your perverted sayings towards me? I mean, can you at least say _one _innocent sentence?"

"Lollipops are candy."

"Well, that's not what I meant. What I meant to say was that you always—"

"And you can _suck it _all the time," he added, grinning. "Well, until there's no more, that is." After that, he snickered as if he was thinking about an inside joke.

She threw her hands up in the air dramatically, letting them fall on her thighs with a slight slapping sound. "I forfeit." She pinched his arm hard and let it go sharply. She smirked when she heard him hiss out loud—but it wasn't enough. _Maybe I _am _a sadist… Well, as long as it's Duncan's pain, I'm elated._

"So…where to, Princess?" Duncan questioned abruptly, recovered from Courtney's earlier pinch. "You still didn't tell me."

"Please tell me you know where _Hotel Le St. James _is at, because if you don't, I will murder you discreetly. Your body won't be found, because I cut it up and fed it to the carnivorous creatures in the forest."

"So dramatic and so little time… Yeah, I know where it's at. That was the place I wanted to work in, but apparently I wasn't informed about the _proper etiquette _or whatever shit." He scowled. "Some people are just so quick to judge. It's irritating."

Mentally, she agreed with him. "Judging is just human nature, Duncan. You can't stop it, and sometimes, you just don't know you're even judging. It's really frustrating, but it's natural," she explained.

He had a pondering look on. "Huh. Well, I guess I understand a little. Anyways, did you cancel your supposed 'date' with Lindsay?"

The memory of the phone call made Courtney sigh exasperatedly. "Yes, I did."

"How'd it go?"

"It went…annoyingly. Her high pitched vocal chords were really a pain in the ass. I just wanted to go over there and shut her up. She just wouldn't listen! Her whining aggravated me to no end. She's such a spoiled brat, seriously. I wish that I never even suggested the thought to her—I was desperate. Desperation can do many horrible things to you—especially if you're like me." She bit her lip.

Duncan was quiet as she spoke. He didn't even comment anything immature about what she said. Then he smiled at her.

"Tch, what?"

"I forgot to tell you this—it's crucial." He dramatically took a deep breath. It was as if he wanted to add some suspense. "You look fucking sexy in that damn dress, Princess. I mean, if you just pull the hem down a bit to show your huge-ass boobs, that'll be perfect—but then your legs will be covered… Damn it, why didn't you wear something extremely low and extremely short?"

"Because I don't want to look like a prostitute, thank you very much. I'm not like that, okay? I won't wear such material to please you or anybody. Besides, I think the length and the neckline is okay for me." She smoothed down her dress inattentively. "I'm thinking sensibly."

"How the hell is that being 'sensible'?"

She rolled her eyes at his naïveness. "Well, the dress is comfortable. Normally most dresses are itchy and not soft. And I have a feeling I will be able to use this dress excessively. It will last long." She smiled smugly. "There's my point."

Duncan looked at her with a stupid expression. "What'd you say? I wasn't listening."

Before she can yell at him, he quickly covered her mouth. He laughed at her wide eyes and confused expression, and then pointed forward. Courtney's onyx eyes followed the direction his finger was pointing at and mumbled, "Oh," feeling foolish. They were in front of _Hotel Le St. James_. Some people were looking in, obviously making harsh remarks about them. The front window wasn't tinted. Of course, that would be illegal to have all the windows tinted.

Courtney told Duncan that they would use the valet parking since it's free. She made sure she looked decent enough from the rear view mirror. She heard Duncan snort, but she didn't bother to do anything about it. He was that infantile.

As they got out, Courtney inconspicuously pinched Duncan from his side when he scared the hell out of the valet man. He was too protective over his car, apparently. They were next to each other comfortably—not too close, not too far. But suddenly, Duncan's right arm lashed out, grabbing her waist. She was being squashed. She wanted to stomp on his foot, but there were too many people.

There was a tall, curvy, statuesque woman behind a mahogany desk. She had jet black hair—Courtney could've sworn there was a purple tint on it—and striking midnight blue eyes. Her skin was dark colored and smooth-like. It made you want to stroke it with your finger. As they came closer, the woman smiled, showing her pearly whites. She lifted up her clipboard, clicking her pen.

"Hello there. My name is Hazel Smith, single and loving it," she said alluringly, staring at Duncan. "Name, please." She looked down at her clipboard, looking up from under her long, thick eyelashes at Duncan. Courtney got irritated—she hated being ignored.

Courtney cleared her throat, fists clenching. "My name is Courtney Neville," she said coldly. "I should be on the VIP list, Miss Smith."

Hazel's eyes flickered to Courtney for a while, coldness appearing, and went back to Duncan with that irritating look appearing yet again. She flipped some pages over. "Oh, yes, yes. I've heard of you—you're receiving an award, yes? You're quite famous. You may go in. But first, what is _your _name?" she purred, smiling flirtatiously at Duncan.

From the corner of Courtney's eye, Duncan smiled back flirtatiously. "My name's Duncan Taylor, sweetheart," he answered back smoothly. He bent forward towards the Amazon, kissing her on the cheek.

Hazel blushed underneath her dark skin. "Y-You may both go in, Duncan." She turned and gave a nod towards the buff bodyguard near her. The bodyguard stepped to the side without a mere glance at them. Courtney and Duncan went inside.

"She was hot," Duncan mused conversationally. "I could've gotten her number. You can tell that she's the easy type despite her confident appearance, you know. A freaking Amazon, I'll tell you. But I'm still taller." He smirked.

Instead of retorting back a nasty remark, Courtney evaluated Duncan. She didn't get to see what he was wearing. He was wearing a tuxedo, and, just as she predicted, he left his blazer open. Surprisingly, he wore the tie, but it was loose. His sleeve underneath wasn't buttoned all the way. And of course, he wore his Chuck's. But he looked…good.

"You clean up nicely," Courtney noted quietly. "I was expecting you to come in something slightly less appropriate, but I guess I was wrong for assuming."

"Don't underestimate me, darling. I'm pretty unpredictable." His hand squeezed her side.

"Yes. Yes, you are." She smiled a bit.

The place was absolutely luxurious as it should be. There were crowds of people in fine clothing, chatting merrily. Wine glasses were held in their hands carefully, showing their wrists filled with either white gold bracelets or diamond watches. Not only were these people professional and rich therapists, there were also people from elite businesses—doctors, lawyers, the bosses of popular magazines, the people from the government, and many more. If you robbed every single person's money here, you'd be the richest man or woman in the entire world.

Really.

There were some people who stared at both Courtney and Duncan. Some just took one glance at them, but the ones that Courtney wanted to shove their wine glasses down their throats were the ones who sneered at them. She knew this would happen. She should've brought Lindsay. Many looks were from the woman; they stared at Duncan lustfully, completely oblivious to their dates.

Truthfully, Courtney knew Duncan was attractive, but his personality just ruined it. He was an amazing flirt and could make you putty in his hands. Regrettably, she was a victim of his charms in the beginning—even earlier today. She didn't know he could affect you with a snap. He's your typical womanizer—except he's much more alluring.

"I don't know what those women see in you," Courtney muttered to him, putting on a faux smile for show. "These women are just incredibly idiotic. They should visit the optometrist soon."

Duncan chuckled. Courtney knew he wasn't faking a smile; he seemed to be really enjoying all of this. "Look, there are two kinds of classification in the woman population. There's the typical ones like that blonde over there." He pointed to a petite blonde who was staring at Duncan, blushing. "And then there's your kind. But you're the only one left apparently—you killed the rest of your kind for dominance over them, but that's not possible anymore considering the fact that you murdered every single one of them. You sexy psychopath."

She really wanted to beat him up.

"The former is the one who would immediately know that I'm attractive by first glance. I mean, look at me, Princess." He smiled cheekily. "Those girls won't care. As for your kind, you would know I'm attractive, _but _you would also know, in your own words, that I'm a 'shit-filled, perverted pig.' So it's different. In a simpler way, your kind is the perceptive kind. Hence, the reason why you're such a successful therapist. The naïve ones are inferior around you." He kissed her jaw softly. "Happy?"

Courtney tried to pull away from him, but the grip on her was firm. She couldn't escape. "I despise public display of affection. Please refrain from planting your lips on my skin. Thank you," she snapped. The smile never wavered.

"You're good at that façade. But I can see right through you. And I'll kiss you whenever I want to, all right, babe?" He kissed her dangerously close to her mouth. "It's fun."

"I'm not your girlfriend, D—!"

"Ah, welcome, dear Courtney," a rough voice said in front of them.

Courtney quickly fixed her expression up when she saw the man who gave her the job. Mr. William Banks. He owned almost everything. He was famous for his controversies—having an affair with an escort, pedophilia, seducing a married woman, using evil acts just to take over a business, and much, _much _more. Courtney was quite frightened of him. Not because he could send anyone to beat her up—she could beat _them _up, actually—but because he could easily fire her with a simple gesture. He had control over her; Courtney wanted control over him.

_In time, I will, _she thought determinedly.

"Mr. Banks, how wonderful it is to—," Courtney started saying politely.

"Before I'm ignored, my name is Duncan Taylor, Miss Courtney's hot date. No, she didn't pay me; she asked me to accompany her. Just tryin' to defend myself, that's all," Duncan quickly said.

_Fuck you, Duncan. _She pinched his side again, but this time, she twisted it all the way. She heard him whimper a little, almost making her laugh.

Mr. Banks looked at Duncan as if he were trash. "Interesting," he replied. "Very interesting." He gave Courtney a look. "Without any further ado, let's gather to our reserved tables. I'll introduce you to my beautiful date." He walked away.

They followed him, quietly arguing against each other. Courtney kept insulting him and pinching his side, while Duncan shot back immature comments at her and touched her inappropriately. When they appeared at the table, Courtney just wanted Duncan to eat her up. She wanted to hide or run away _immediately_.

"Lindsay," she blurted out unintentionally.

Duncan looked at the beautiful blonde and smirked. "Damn, she's hot. Maybe I can get—," he started.

Lindsay brightened at the sight of Courtney, grinning hugely. Her grin could rival the Grinch's grin. "O-M-G! Courtney, hi! You wore the dress, you wore the Cleopatra heels, you made your hair in a high ponytail! You're so pret-tiful!" she squealed loudly.

"Never mind," Duncan muttered, looking like his ears were in pain.

Mr. Banks raised an eyebrow, looking at Courtney and then at Lindsay. "You two know each other, Lindsay darling?" he inquired.

Courtney wanted to puke.

"Uh-huh! She's my therapist, and I was supposed to go with her to—"

_Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, NO, NO! Lindsay! Why the hell do you have to be so, so, so fucking _stupid_?! Damn bimbo! Damn, damn, damn! What am I gonna do?! Mr. Banks is looking at me with such cold eyes!_

Mr. Banks narrowed his eyes slightly underneath his spectacles. "You asked, Miss Harrington, your _client_, to go to this convention with you? Courtney, that is inexcusable behavior. That is not allowed. I am very disappointed in you. To think that you would be getting one of the highest awards anyone could ever get! There are important people here, and you dare defy me like this?" he said coldly. "I loathe it when people go against what I do. When we first met and you got the job, I specifically told you the rules and regulations. And now you chose the time you're getting an award to break all of them?"

Courtney felt like dirt. Yes, she was furious with him—but she was furious at herself the most. She's always followed the rules perfectly without question. It avoided trouble, that's why. She felt ashamed of herself.

But somehow, this made her eyes open. Following the rules were kind of boring for her, too.

He was still scolding her like an uptight father. "…this man is your date? Is he one of your clients, Courtney? You threw away this beautiful lady for _this _kind of person? Well, I must say something terrible must be happening to you. The Courtney I know doesn't do this."

Courtney looked at Duncan who looked enraged. She didn't notice him shivering, and his fists clenched tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He saw Courtney looking at him and stared directly in her eyes. She didn't bother to hide the emotions swimming around in her onyx orbs. The shame, anger, realization…he could see it all.

She whispered two words she never would've said in her entire life.

"Help me."

Duncan's eyes widened and he nodded. His arm pulled her back a little, making her body an inch behind his muscular physique. He cleared his throat out loud.

"Excuse me, Mr. Banks sir. I greatly apologize for interrupting your unnecessary ranting, but there are people staring. I know _your kind_"—he spat out those two words—"doesn't like to embarrass themselves and are incredibly self-conscious about their appearances. But I'll tell you the honest truth, sir. Courtney did ask Lindsay to come with her to this grand party, but that was because Lindsay over here wanted her to."

Courtney gasped quietly. "Duncan, that's not what—"

"Shh, shh, sweetheart. Don't defend Lindsay anymore. I know you care about her just like how you care about your other clients, but the truth has to come out. I'm sure Lindsay would understand, right?" He directed the question to said blonde.

Lindsay looked up from her nails, perplexed. "What?"

Courtney almost giggled when she saw Duncan's eye twitch. "You understand why Courtney's defending you, right? She brought you along because you wanted her to,_ right_?"

"Uh, of course, totally! Yeah, sure!" She didn't know what was going on, of course.

Mr. Banks was staring at Duncan with immense contempt in his eyes. "And how do I know if what you're saying isn't a lie, as well, Mr. Duncan?"

"Because it is the truth. And I'm not Courtney's client, sir."

_Duncan, what are you going to—?_

"I'm her faithful boyfriend."

_Ah, you imbecile._

**. . .**

Mr. Banks allegedly accepted the truth. Courtney got her award proudly. Duncan was by her side grinning. And Lindsay was still confused about everything. The party/convention went by smoothly.

Courtney was surprised that she asked Duncan to help her. What surprised her _even more _was the fact that Duncan did help her. He lied flawlessly. She knew it was absolutely horrible to lie to your boss—even if he's a total asshole—but she knew that she had to do something. She didn't want to get fired, although that makes her feel selfish.

It was midnight. They were all outside the hotel, waiting for the valet to come with their cars. Courtney tried to ignore Mr. Banks flirting with Lindsay, though Lindsay didn't even know he was flirting with her. They won't last just like the others.

"Courtney," Mr. Banks called. "I would like to speak with you just for a moment." Their hummer limo came, but Mr. Banks told them to wait first.

"Sure," she muttered. She gave Duncan a look to which he grinned at and followed her annoying boss. They sat down on the bench near the revolving doors. Courtney made sure she didn't sit too close to the pedophile.

"You did good today, Courtney," Mr. Banks said, smoking a pipe. "Despite the earlier misunderstandings, you did good. So did your date. But rest assured, Courtney. You don't have to hide anymore; I know that he lied for you."

She gulped audibly.

"Does that young man have feelings for you? I mean, that's such a gigantic lie he said there. I'm not even courageous enough to do such a thing…possibly. I almost believed him when he said that he was your boyfriend. He's a good liar—but I saw right through him. Remember this, Courtney: I was a lawyer and a therapist. Both jobs require perceptiveness. Don't defy me; I always win, got that?"

Her nails scraped against the wood hard as it curled into a fist. "Why are you turning all of this into something unnecessary, Mr. Banks? I made one mistake; for that, I apologize. But this is too much," she whispered coldly. She didn't care now. Anger was boiling beneath.

"I love conflicts. That's why I enjoy books so much. Conflict. I love making people's lives a game. I told you in the beginning to not make me mad. I can do things to you that you can't even imagine. I have many connections, darling."

_I never knew he was like this. He's utterly psychotic._

"I'm not mad, you know. It's just that life for me is boring, and I want to make the best of it. I'm still healthy, but sooner or later I'll die. It may sound all humorous now, but it's true." He got up and started walking away. Two bodyguards immediately went beside him. "I'm watching you, Courtney. Always watching you."

Courtney felt dizzy. She wanted to scream out loud. She wanted to break someone's spine in half. She wanted to throw the bench she was sitting on at him. _Fuck that geezer._

She didn't know all of this would happen. All she wanted to do was make an appearance, smile, accept her award, and leave happily. That was her agenda. Then he ruined it by adding drama to her sort of peaceful life. She already has too much to handle. What is he going to do to her?

"He's all talk, don't worry," Duncan's voice said beside her. "Those fat men beside him is just lame, man. You can beat the ugly shit out of him easily, babe. And you're smart, so that's a plus."

"You heard?"

"I've learned many things while I was young." He sat down beside her. "I have a younger sister and an older brother. Normally, the older brothers would embarrass the hell out of the young siblings. I mean, he does that, but not a lot like me. I always like to eavesdrop when he's on the phone with his girlfriend, or for my sister, I'd listen to her talk to herself while she's in her bedroom. She tends to say things that's bugging her out loud. It's fun for me. Eavesdropping is like listening to a regular conversation to me. Easy as pie, darling."

Courtney smiled at him.

"Whoa. What's with that out of character smile of yours, Princess?"

"You…you told something about yourself, about your family to me. You _talked_ about yourself, Duncan," she answered, in awe.

He scratched the nape of his neck. "Yeah…I guess I did. Damn, I didn't even know that I did that. It just…came out, you know?" He buried his face in his hands. "Unbe_liev_able, seriously. This is amazing. I can't wait to tell Gwen soon."

She slapped his back playfully. "You should. She'll be proud. This is good progress." She laid back on the bench, yawning a bit.

Duncan did the same thing. "Hey, about me telling your boss that I'm your boyfriend…yeah, sorry about that. It just came out, really. I couldn't say that I was your brother. I'd have to lie even more. Don't worry about your boss, though. He might lose his memory because Lindsay's like the human form of alcohol."

Courtney laughed out loud. "Ha! That's what I was thinking earlier! She's really unintelligent, isn't she?"

"Hot but dumb. Not my type."

"What _is_ your type?"

"Gwen."

"That's a type?"

"She's a girl, she's cool, and she's hot. Yeah. She's an A-cup, but whatever."

"I didn't ask for that."

They continued to stare at the ceiling of the hotel silently.

Courtney feels comfortable around Duncan. She doesn't like him or anything. Sure, she's attracted to him, but not in _that_ way. She'd make out with him if she wanted to, or if her urges came out involuntarily, but it won't really mean anything. He was a comfortable person. Partly. Sort of. She doesn't know. A friendly client? Well, when he's touching her, he's a little bit _too_ friendly, but sure, friendly client.

"Hey, Princess?" Duncan called huskily.

She moved her eyes to the corner to see him a bit. "Hmm?" she muttered softly.

"Let's be friends. Screw the rules and regulations, 'kay?"

She thought of Mr. Banks and smirked.

"Sure. Let's be friends."

* * *

**TBC.**

**[Gah. Stupid project.]  
**


	8. eight

"Hey, best friend."

Courtney looked up from her PDA and then back down, rolling her eyes. Duncan laughed at that, and took a seat next to her in the café. He noisily scooted his chair near Courtney until their arms were touching. Then he put his elbow on the table, leaned his right cheek on it, and stared at her, grinning like an idiot.

Courtney didn't say anything. She continued jotting down unimportant things on her PDA silently. It was as if she was ignoring him—which Duncan thought was hilarious. He grabbed her latte and sucked on her straw loudly, drinking a lot of her latte.

Her silence broke.

"Duncan, you idiot! I used that straw! Now all of your transmittable microbes will be on it, spreading its way inside my drink! You thoughtless bastard!" Courtney screamed quietly. Duncan knew that she was self-conscious. In her own way, he guessed.

But he just laughed. "That's a new one. Not much people call me a 'bastard,' you know," he said coolly.

"Well. I'm glad that I'm the first one. And be warned; I'll be calling you much more inconsiderate names than that meager word." She motioned for the dark-skinned waitress to come over.

"Hello. My name is 'Ebony.' How may I help you, sir…and ma'am?" Her eyes tried to look at Courtney, but Duncan smirked when her eyes kept sneaking glances at him. "I-Is there something wrong with your drink?"

"Yes. A moronic jackass drank it, and I want a new one. Don't vex—I'll pay for the new one," Courtney answered callously. It was obvious that she knew about Ebony's "accidental" glances.

Ebony brought out her notepad with shaking hands. Was his presence that affecting? Duncan knew that he was unbelievably handsome, but he didn't know that it was just too much for certain girls.

"What would you like, Miss?" More glances.

"I would like to change my order. I'd like an 'Organic Coffee.'" She stared at the menu, not bothering to look at the girl.

Ebony nervously looked at Duncan, a hint of pink appearing under her dark cheeks. "And y-you, sir?"

Duncan just couldn't help it. The girl was making it too damn easy. "I want you, _Ebony_," he purred, smirking.

A splash of red spread on her cheeks; she looked like a tomato now. "S-Sir? I beg your par—"

"He's joking," Courtney interjected, glaring at Duncan. "He'll have some iced coffee, thank you."

Ebony scribbled things down on her notepad, bowed down, and quickly scampered away. She tripped a few times. And that proved that she was incredibly affected by the mere presence of the smirking ex-delinquent.

Unfortunately, the event that just happened seemed to make Duncan's Ego-Meter grow even higher. And it will cause much more beating and irritation from a mocha-haired woman.

"This is getting irritating. If I'm going to stay _friends_"—she said the word quietly—"with you, that will automatically state that I will have to see pathetic girls throwing themselves at you. It's completely unbearable, and I hate it. Stop encouraging them and stop flustering them. That poor girl must be hyperventilating right now. So control your…ah, charms and act like you're unattractive." Courtney continued writing mind-numbing crap on her PDA.

Duncan's smirk grew even larger. His Ego-Meter went up so high it broke the meter. "Are you…tryin' to tell me that I'm…_attractive_?" he inquired smugly.

She ceased her writing, eyes widening. Duncan could've sworn he saw her blush a little. But then again, she's _Courtney_; she's not the type to blush. Regardless of that, he was glad that he caught her.

"I am flattered, sweetie. Who knew that even the uptight, could be a lesbian Princess thought that _I _was attractive? I was beginning to think that you need to visit the optometrist." He slung his arm around her, pulling her near.

Courtney pushed him with her shoulder and scooted away. "Friends aren't that intimate. And no, I don't think you're attractive. Most likely to other girls you are, I dare say, attractive. _They themselves _need to see the optometrist. I don't know what they see in you. You're not attractive. _You're not_," she lied through her teeth.

"Uh, babe? You could've just said no. From what I've learned to some extent in high school, in court, a lawyer will know when a witness is denying something. The witness will repeat, 'No' or 'Yes' or 'No, I'm not. Nope' a lot or they'd go off the point, blaming other people like you did. You said something about other girls thinking I'm hot." He crossed his arms over his muscular chest. "Yup. I'm smart."

"I'm so amazed."

Duncan chuckled and looked out the huge window near them. _É café_ was spelled backwards on the window from the inside. People were walking around on the phone. Most of them were business people, looking all…busy—of course.

He got bored watching them, and turned towards Courtney, who was texting on her phone. He smiled mischievously and leaned over, trying to get a good look on what she's writing.

_"I'm just at the café I always go to. Damn, it's so freaking boring now! I don't have any clients today. I'm with my supposed 'friend' Duncan—but all he's doing is irritating the shit out of me. All these love-struck girls are a pain in the ass, I swear, Bridge," _she wrote in. _"I know that he's attract—"_

Duncan was confused when Courtney stopped texting. He then realized that Courtney knew he was peeping at what she was sending to her friend. He lifted his eyes up and saw her glowering at him.

So predictable.

"So you _do _think that I'm attractive!" He felt smug again. "You didn't have to hide it, you know. I'm used to girls thinkin' I'm so fucking hot. Now go finish the word and send it to your friend. By the way, I've never met her. Can I? I'd like to meet my best friend's girl best friend."

"No. I don't want her to suffer from your perverted mentality. I'd rather she stay innocent if you don't mind." With that, she punched him in the guts. "Damn it, where the hell's my coffee? It's your fault. You flustered the girl—and now I don't get my coffee."

"But look at the bright side, Princess."

"Ugh, what bright side? There's nothing remotely bright about anything as of right now."

"Well…I'm hot. I agree with it and you agree with it. We agree at something. Doesn't that make a—?"

She stood up abruptly and walked away. She dug through her pocket, slammed a fistful of money on the counter, scaring the cashier, who was talking animatedly about something stupid, and went outside, fuming.

Duncan quickly followed after her. He saw Ebony carrying the tray with their coffees on top, wondering where Courtney was. She caught sight of Duncan and almost fainted when he mouthed, "Call me."

She wasn't her type. She was stupid. He didn't even give her his number. She blushed too easily; she fainted too easily. She was too _easy_. She wasn't much of a challenge. It was like a videogame that was easy to beat. He got bored.

Duncan easily caught up to Courtney, whose fists were clenched. He could imagine steam coming out of her ears. Her anger amused him to no end.

"Aw, the Drama Queen made a dramatic entrance, scaring the cashier dramatically. Whatever shall we do?" he announced out loud. Duncan put his arms around her waist and nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, making sure his lips brushed against it. He felt her shiver.

"Let go of me, Duncan. We're friends _only_. Oh, if Gwen sees us now…she'll immediately assume that you're cheating on her. Stop being all intimate and stand a good foot next to me. Friends don't cuddle. Friends are friends. You get the point, don't you? Or do I have to drag on and on about the definition of the word 'friend'?" When he just smirked at her, she pushed him away. "Well, good. Glad you understand. If you try any more moves on me, you sicko, I will personally drag you all the way—"

Duncan wasn't listening to her. Unconsciously, he growled out loud. He wanted to beat up somebody badly. If only Harold accidentally bumped into him and spilled nerdy boogers on him so Duncan could vent out the fierce monster within. He muttered a string of profanities over and over. These profanities were so major that it could make even a sailor blush.

Trent. Trent Davidson. Trent Alexander Davidson.

Don't ask Duncan how he knew his middle name.

Everything was going along fine. It was a typical day with Princess. Him taunting her; her beating him up. He liked it. It wasn't boring. But then Elvis had to show up and just ruin everything. Just one glance of his face. _Just one. _He really wanted to kill him. Normally, Duncan would just want to beat him up for kicks, or cuss him out. But this was just different. His anger was controlling him.

He suddenly heard Courtney calling him: "Duncan?! Duncan! What, do you need to visit an audiologist now? Duncan, what the hell is wrong with you?! Why do you look so—?"

Duncan quickly covered her mouth and pulled her inside a dirty alleyway. He pushed her to the wall, chests pressed together. His hand was still on Courtney's mouth. He leaned around the wall and checked if Trent was still there.

He was.

_Goddamn, that ass._

He was with a petite brunette. They were standing too close next to each other. But then his anger quickly grew. _Does that mean he was cheating on Gwen while Gwen cheated on me with him? _

"I thought you would control your anger. And here I thought my temper was far worse than yours," Courtney mumbled underneath his hand. "Don't do anything. I will stop you."

If it was any other day, if Trent never showed up on this fine, fine day, he would've laughed at that remark. But he didn't. "Don't try, Courtney. I'm going to fucking kill him. And I am controlling my anger; at least I didn't pound him the minute I saw him," he sneered. "Look at him—he's with a girl. He's cheating on Gwen. Mother—" He took his hand off of her mouth and punched the wall.

"Oh, shut _up_, Duncan! How do you know that Gwen's cheating on you with him? How do you know that Trent's cheating on Gwen? That could very well be his sister, you know! They may not look alike, but sometimes siblings don't look alike, okay? So calm _down_. Seriously, violence won't do you any good. And—"

"I sense hypocrisy going on here."

She glared daggers at him. "—it will just make your relationship with Gwen even worse. Think rationally for _once_, please."

"You don't understand, Courtney. He's the one ruining everything! He's—Look! He's laughing with her. All smiles and shit. Damn it, Courtney, let me go over there! I'm just going to talk to him and mess his pretty face a little bit. I'll probably mess around with the girl—"

Courtney banged her forehead against his hard. "Now you're going to bring that girl in? Stop it. Just stop it, you idiot. Stop looking at him and that girl. Look at—Look at me, damn it!" she shouted.

Duncan was still staring at Trent.

_"Look at me, Duncan."_

Eyes slowly peeled away from the black-haired guy. Teal eyes met onyx eyes. His anger was still there.

"What do you think I should do, then?" Duncan whispered. His finger stroked her cheek slowly, but it was shaking with intense rage. "What do you _think_, huh?"

"Shut up. Calm down. Walk away. Let's talk. Then talk to Gwen. If you're not ready to face Trent, then don't face him. You've got plenty of time. Take deep breaths. Get off of me; you're practically groping me, bozo. I'm going to treat you like a little kid. Give me your hand, and we'll go to my friend's house. You wanted to meet Bridgette, right? Well, her house is near, so let's go. You can trust her. I tell her everything."

Duncan glared at her. "Every_thing_?"

"Not everything. Just how annoying and perverted you are. Let's go." She pushed him off slowly and quickly grabbed his hand. She stared at him with cautious eyes and led him out of the alleyway.

Trent was still there with the brunette. They were sitting on a table that had a huge umbrella towering over them. Smiley and happy. It wasn't fair. Duncan here was suffering whilst Trent was having the time of his life. _Two-timer._

Courtney's grip on his hand tightened.

They passed by them inconspicuously. Trent didn't notice the icy glares Duncan was giving him as they passed. He was too focused on the brunette, still all smiley. He couldn't take it. He couldn't _take it_.

He wrenched his hand out of her tight grip and stormed towards Trent, fuming as hell.

"DUNCAN! _No!_" Courtney screamed. But he didn't pay attention. He had one target.

"…bet that he would do better if he used the G chord, you know what I mean?" Trent was saying as Duncan came closer. "The guys just wings it, you know? I'm amazed at what he does. But it looks like there's some more room for improvement. Perfection doesn't exist in—"

The brunette's eyes widened when Duncan stood behind Trent, shivering. "Uh, Trent? There's someone—," she began, perplexed and slightly frightened.

Duncan grabbed Trent by the neck and picked him up forcibly. He pushed him against the wall, knocking over some plants and tables. His right hand was curled around his throat and his left hand was pulled back ready to take action.

Everything was all blurry now. Anger took control.

"You ruined everything," Duncan whispered menacingly, coldly. "You _fucking ruined everything! _Everything was fine until YOU SHOWED UP! You asshole! I know what you're doing with Gwen. _I know! _You having sex with her, cheating on her with this gal over there… Are you that fucking stupid? Did you think that _I_ was fucking stupid?"

Trent looked incredibly bewildered. "What—what are you talking about? I'm not fooling around with Gwen, Duncan. You're mistaken; we're just friends. Sure, I have feelings for her still, but it's not like that with—"

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit! 'Still have feelings for her'?! You have no right! I've been waiting for this moment, you know. I always anticipated seeing your goddamn face so I could break it. But I didn't see you. I thought you were hiding from me, stupid pansy. And now here you are. I'm ready. You ruined my day. _YOU RUINED EVERY—_"

"Duncan. Stop it right now." Courtney.

"Stay _out_ of this, Courtney!" Duncan roared. "You're not part of this! Things will get real ugly like Harold's face if you stay."

"For goodness sake's, Duncan, STOP! You're making a scene! People are calling the police! Stop it, Duncan. You're misunderstanding everything. Let go of him, _please_." She was next to him. Too close to him now. She grabbed his tight, shaking fist and slowly pulled it down.

"Stop for Gwen."

"I'm doing this for Gwen, stupid."

"_I'm _stupid? At least I'm not pinning a guy on the wall for something that's not true. Assumptions are horrible, Duncan. Stop."

"Fuck, Courtney! Stay outta this now! Leave me alone, damn it!" He tried pulling away, but he didn't do it too hard; he was afraid he might hurt her. He didn't want to hurt anymore people.

"For Gwen, Duncan." She massaged his fist.

"Shut up!"

"For…your sister, Duncan?" she said softly. His fingers twitched and slowly loosened, but tightened again.

Duncan looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Don't you fucking say that, Courtney. Stop it."

Courtney's eyes furrowed. She pulled his arm roughly. His body turned a little towards her, but his right hand was still clutching his throat. Trent's eyes were wide still, looking frazzled.

"For—for…me?"

Duncan gasped out loud. He looked at her. _Really_ looked at her. Where was the tough, cryptic girl he knew? Who was this vulnerable girl? _What the hell's going on…?_

Courtney then looked away, biting her lip. She looked sad. This just wasn't her at all.

He heard the police coming.

**. . .**

Duncan woke up with daze. His eyes shut back tightly as soon as the bright morning light hit him. As soon as he got acclimated to the light, he quickly sat up—which was a bad idea. A strong vertigo struck him suddenly. He groaned.

He didn't know where he was. He knew what happened; that he couldn't deny at all. But whose house was this? Where was Courtney? How did he get here? All these questions were flooding around in his aching mind. He hated confusion; he hated not knowing things; he hated this.

He swung his legs over the soft bed and walked over to the bathroom right across him. He went inside the shower, quickly turning it to cold. He put his hands on the wall and leaned down. His head ducked down, too. He made sure the water jets massaged his back muscles. They were aching. As a matter of fact, his whole entire body was aching. When he finished, he was surprised to see fresh crisp clothes on the white mini shelf. He put them on. It was a black t-shirt and dark denim jeans. Casual and comfy. He was satisfied.

Duncan went outside of the room and looked around the hallway. This place was a condominium. The walls were a soft, homey blue. It made him feel as if he were in the ocean or something. The walls were covered with pictures of nature—mostly the ocean—and paintings. He turned to the left and saw the living room and kitchen. The counters made a boundary line between the two. There was a blonde girl behind the counters with her back turned towards him, making some sandwiches. She was humming an unknown tune.

"Hey, doll face. Are you Princess's friend? How the hell did I get here?" Duncan questioned loudly.

The girl jumped up, lettuce flying in the air. She whirled around, clutching her chest. "Whoa, dude! You scared me!" she gasped.

Recognition filled inside him. "Hey, you're that girl from the elevator. You're the one who was mumbling random crap. How ya doin', Malibu?" He looked around his surroundings once more. "This your place?"

"Yes, it is. Courtney brought you over here. You wouldn't shut up, so she knocked you out. She waited up all night for her to tell me that; that's why she's still dead asleep in my room." She continued making her sandwich.

Duncan laid his forehead against the counter. "Aw, damn! That's embarrassing. Courtney knocked me out. She's a girl. A _girl_ knocked me out. That ruins me, man." He groaned out loud, not caring if Courtney heard him.

He heard her giggle. "Wow. Your man pride must be rotting now. And my name's not 'Malibu'; it's 'Bridgette,' thank you very much."

"Oh, whatever." Despite what he said, Duncan began to like Bridgette. She was attractive, no lie. But he felt like he shouldn't play around with her like he does with Courtney and the other girls. She was a girl that can hang with girls _and _guys. He liked that; those kind of girls were definitely hard to find.

Bridgette turned around, carrying a medium-sized plate of sandwiches; there were _a lot_ of them. "You want? It's actually a ham sandwich, but since I'm a vegetarian, I mostly put lettuce—lettuce is awesome—and other veggies. Er, sorry if you don't like it," she informed him, smiling sheepishly.

"Eh, that's all right, Bridgette; I'm not allergic to vegetables. At least I'm eating something." Duncan took one sandwich and finished it in two huge bites. "I feel healthy."

"You look healthy."

"Checkin' me out, huh, Malibu?"

"Whatever, Duncan."

Duncan took another sandwich, chuckling. "You're hot and all, but I'm not feelin' anything for you, so don't worry your little blonde head, darling."

Bridgette smiled at him. She sat on a stool behind the counter and propped her elbows on it. She took a sandwich and bit it, chewing with her mouth open. Apparently she didn't have the proper table etiquette; it made Duncan feel a whole sense of déjà vu.

Duncan felt it was weird to be eating with her a girl he wasn't attracted to. Of course, it was different with his family members, but a girl he didn't know that much, like Bridgette. Normally he would be flirting with her, touching her in a way that would make her tingle involuntarily. But it felt wrong to even _think _that. It's like his body just wanted to converse with her like good friends, or just make light jokes about each other. No attraction floated out of him to her. _Nothing at all._ It was queer.

"Hey, Bridgette… Are you wearing guy repellent?" It was a stupid thought and a stupid question, but he had to ask.

Bridgette laughed out loud, almost spitting out the squishy, chewed food in her mouth. "Uh, no. Why would you ask something ridiculous like that? Are those even real?"

"Just a thought." _A fucking stupid one, _he added internally. _Ugh, I shouldn't be going so deep into something stupid like this. Jeez, dude._

They both sat and ate in silence. The only thing that was heard were the sounds of food being chewed and slow breathing. It was kind of an awkward moment for Duncan, because he's not used to having a silent moment with someone. If Harold was here, he'd yell out something like, "A gay baby is born!" _Wow. Why the hell am I thinking about _Harold_?_

"So, Duncan," Bridgette started suddenly, "what is your relationship with Courtney? Friends? Best friends? Boyfriend/Girlfriend?" She smiled mischievously at the last word.

Duncan rolled his eyes at her. "Nah, Bridgette, it's not like that for the last one. We're just friends—best friends. Don't worry, though; I'm not replacing you or anything. You could say I'm taking the role as her 'guy best friend' since she doesn't have any friends that are guys," he answered.

"Whoa, how do you know that she doesn't have any guy friends?"

"It's obvious, Malibu. And I bet that she doesn't have any other friends other than you and me. Blame her for her attitude."

"You shouldn't be like that, Duncan. She's…had a rough past. I mean, I don't know if she would be like this still if she _didn't_ have a rough past, but yeah, she's had it hard." Bridgette furrowed her eyebrows.

Duncan snorted out loud. "Don't lie, Bridgette. I hate it. Courtney is a _princess_. Sure, she may have problems—she probably got a silly 'A' minus in her report card when she was in school. Oh no, whatever shall she do? Jeez."

Bridgette glared at him with her olive eyes. "I wouldn't assume if I were you, you know. Courtney may seem to have it all. She's wealthy, has a good job, and she's beautiful—you think all of that goes to show that she has a perfect, happy life? No. _She does not. _Her childhood was full of crap. I know Courtney more than you do, so don't even _think _about saying that she has a perfect life, because she doesn't; she never had one. Got that, Duncan?"

Duncan stared silently, feeling surprised. It was wrong for him to assume. But he wouldn't take all of the blame; most of those rich, snotty people have perfect lives. Assumptions were an automatic thing for him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Didn't mean to."

She sighed, fingering her once bitten sandwich. "It's fine. Everyone assumes, anyways, so whatever. But just don't do any more major assumptions—especially about Courtney."

He merely nodded.

Duncan started to stare at the sea-blue counter. _Damn, is this chick that obsessed with the ocean or what? _His fingers stroked the designs on it unconsciously. There was that awkward silence again.

"Don't you want to know what her past life was like?"

His stroking paused for a while, and then continued. "Hm, no, not really."

Duncan saw her give him a surprised look. "Why not?"

"It's not for me to know from you."

"But—but what if your best friend tells Courtney about your past life because she wants to? Wouldn't you get mad?"

He chuckled and stopped his stroking. "Okay, first of all, I don't have a best friend or anything other than Courtney. Second of all, that's just Courtney; at times, she's nosy because she's doing her job, or she's just plain, annoyingly nosy. And third of all, I would get mad, but I can never stay mad at her for long, 'cause it's hard to stay mad at her and 'cause she'll just get mad at me, even resulting to violence."

Bridgette smiled gently at him. "Wow, you know her so well," she noted, awed.

"She's not so hard to know so well. I hang out with her more than my own…um, girlfriend." Guilt hit him like a machine gun.

"So, is that a bad thing or a good thing?"

"I don't want to answer that."

"All right, then."

Duncan banged his forehead on the counter hard. "Okay, I've had enough with the too damn quietness here, all right? I don't care what you say, but just _say something_!" he yelled.

Bridgette laughed at him. "Sorry, sorry. I thought you didn't want me to say anything. It's like you think I'm talkative and you don't like me very much."

"Where'd you get that? I do like you. If I didn't like you, I would've given you loads of attitude and I probably would've left this place already."

"Thanks, I guess." She was quiet again, but then realized it. "Um, want to know more about Courtney?"

"Not about her past, right?"

She put an x over her chest. "'Cross my heart—'"

Duncan put a hand up, stopping her quickly. "Ugh, don't do that. Princess did that once. That swear thing reminds me of death and doctors. Don't do that anymore, all right?"

She gave him a confused look but nodded. "Uh, sure." She took a deep breath, finishing her fourth sandwich. "All right, you already know that Courtney is someone who's incredibly hot-tempered and volatile, right?"

"Tch, of course."

She laughed, her olive eyes twinkling. "You already know that she has a nice front sometimes, but she's actually thinking harsh things about you, right?"

"Yeah. How do you know that?"

"She rants about it with me."

"Ohh… Continue."

Bridgette's eyes suddenly switched to something unidentifiable. She started stroking the counter just like Duncan did a while ago. "Um…you do know that Courtney's a total overachiever, right?" she murmured softly. "She always likes to do a lot of extra credit in school even though she's passing already. She'd always volunteer to do something _by herself_, which is something that involves more people and takes months. She just likes to overexert herself a lot. It scares me."

Duncan was surprised by the sudden change of atmosphere. First, it was all joking and casual; now it's turned serious and tense.

"Courtney always stresses out herself. Seriously. I—I just want her to relax and have some fun for once. She did that once, but it didn't turn so good." She had a faraway look as if she were in the past. "She wants to impress everyone. In high school, all of her teachers liked her. She didn't care if our classmates hated her; she thought they were just jealous, which some were. Besides, Courtney could kick their ass, anyways, right?

"I love Courtney to death, Duncan. A lot of things happened to her in the past. _A lot. _She's probably just like you, suffering from the past. She's just making herself suffer, mentally of course, because no way will she give in to physical pain." She looked like she was going to tear up. "She—she—she can't c-cut herself. Courtney's not that stupid, r-right?" Her voice broke.

Duncan was never good at consoling people when they cried. He was always lost at words, and he just didn't know what to do.

_"Right?!"_

He winced at her loud tone. "Courtney is wise. She's not like that. You're her best friend; you know that," he said quietly.

Bridgette stared at him. She looked away and started dabbing her eyes with a napkin. "You're her best friend, too." She sniffled.

"Yeah, but I'm her _guy _best friend. I'm not the real thing. You are."

"You still are, though." She laughed shortly. "All right, Courtney—"

Duncan held up a hand, shushing her. "No more, Bridgette. I'd like to get to know Courtney more from her, not you. And you're kind of going into her past, too. I told you I want to know everything about her past from _her_. So there. Shut up and talk about something else."

"Okay. Would you like to know five facts about Miss Courtney?" Bridgette smiled beautifully.

He shrugged, smirking a bit. "Are some embarrassing?" he inquired quite eagerly.

"Maybe," she sang.

"Then bring it, Malibu."

Bridgette seemed to be as eager as him. She straightened up and folded her arms on the counter. She leaned in as if she was telling a secret. "Fact number one: Courtney has a huge phobia—green jelly." She snickered.

"What the hell?" Duncan started laughing out loud. He thought it was a joke, because it was unbelievable. Courtney doesn't seem to be the type to have a phobia. "You're joking, right?"

She shook her head, grinning hugely. "Nope"—the _p _was popped—"I'm not. It's true. It happened during her twelfth birthday. I brought in some green jelly for the party, and she screamed out loud when I showed her it. This person pushed me from behind and the green jelly went on her. She _shrieked_, man. It hurt my ears. Then we couldn't find her after she ran away. When we did, she was in fetal position, muttering, 'Green jelly. Revolting. Ew.' It's funny, but it's not funny if you see her like that in fetal position." She shuddered.

Duncan made sure to bring some green jelly next time during their session.

"Fact number two: she's a sadist. When she was like three or two, she was in martial arts. She loved that; at least that's what she told me. But when I saw her beating up some guys behind the school area because they stole her PDA, she was _smiling_, like—like—like a freaking maniac! She loves to cause people pain. I think it's 'cause it makes her feel superior or whatever."

"Why doesn't _that _surprise me?" he murmured.

Bridgette held up three fingers. "Fact number three: she can hold a grudge for a _long _time. This one time, we were in line for some coffee when this guy suddenly cut in line in front of us. Courtney started getting mad at him, but she didn't beat him up, because she didn't want to cause a scene. Always the self-conscious one, eh?"

Duncan rolled his eyes.

"So yeah, the guy was just ignoring her and even gave her the finger. Courtney was _fuming_, dude. I mean, it was one little thing, and she kept on ranting about it for almost three days."

"Wait, wait, hold up," Duncan interjected. "Why only three days? Princess looks like the type to hold grudges for a lifetime."

"Well, we were getting coffee again and the same guy cut in front of us. This time, though, Courtney didn't hold back. The guy was beaten up pretty badly. He was sent to the hospital and tried to sue her. But Courtney, with her all-time powerful lawyers twisted around her pinkie, sued him instead." She shook her head. "Don't get on her bad side, Duncan."

He smirked. "Already have. Many times, honey," he bragged.

"Fact number four: she's lactose intolerant," Bridgette continued on. "I found out when I gave her grilled cheese."

"Doesn't coffee have milk in it? Courtney drinks that a lot, you know."

"I guess she drinks a 'special' kind of coffee." She put air quotes around the word "special."

"What about the coffee shop she always goes to? Does she pay them to give her some 'special' kind of coffee? Or do they just automatically know since she's like their number one customer?"

Bridgette shrugged, grabbing another sandwich. "I don't know. Ask her." She munched more on the sandwich. "Fact number five, last one: Courtney doesn't like teddy bears, so if you're the romantic type—which you obviously aren't, but still—don't give her any teddy bears. She will throw it away. One guy gave her—"

Duncan interrupted her by scoffing loudly. "A guy gave Courtney a teddy bear? You mean an admirer? I don't believe it. I mean, sure Princess is sexy and all, but once those guys see her personality, the attraction will be washed away just like that—" He snapped his fingers.

She pursed her lips. "That's true," she mused, "but Courtney's not _that _bad. But whatever. Anyway, Courtney hates teddy bears, _period_. Don't give her one, don't talk about one, don't show her one. Just. Don't."

"Okay, what girl doesn't like teddy bears, huh?" Duncan demanded. "Sure, Courtney's different than you girls, but I know that even a girl like her, she'd be touched if she got one. Girls like that, right? Courtney's a girl, unless she was born as a hot chick with a personality as rough as a guy. There must be a reason why she hates teddy bears, right? Do you know?"

"I thought you didn't want to hear about her past?" She smiled slyly. "Interested?"

"Sorry. Forgot."

"Well, I don't know why, either. She just told me that when we were in the toy store to buy something for my little cousin. As soon as she saw the teddy bears, she ran out, cussing at me. It wasn't even my fault. I didn't even know."

Duncan kept quiet. Courtney was a mystery now. He thought he got her all figured out, but he realized that Courtney's more than what he let on. She must be like him, suffering like what Bridgette said. He doesn't know her past; Courtney doesn't know his—partly only. Could that mean that…he has to help her, too? Would she tell him her past if he told her his?

He would help her. If she asked him.

"Courtney's really somethin', isn't she?" Duncan whispered absentmindedly. "You're right; she's like me…"

"Well, we'll just have to help her, right?" Bridgette smiled delicately at him.

He chuckled at her, for once enjoying the quiet ambience.

"I wake up from my deep slumber and I see my two friends flirting with each other. You're already two-timing Gwen with me, Duncan. What more do you want?" Courtney's groggy-sounding voice said behind them.

Duncan turned around slowly, an even huger grin spreading on his face. Just the sound of her voice made him incredibly elated. She was a great, volatile, hot-tempered friend to him. She was his best friend; she was someone he can talk to and relate to anytime.

He walked toward her giving her a huge hug, face buried in the crook of her neck. He didn't want to lose her. If Courtney was gone, who would he turn to? Who would help him with his problems with his girlfriend Gwen, the girl he loves so very dearly?

_Gwen. _His heart thumped painfully. _I haven't…hung out with her in a while. Damn it. _

He saw Bridgette giving him a knowing look._  
_

"Ugh, seriously, Duncan. I just woke up. I may have slept quite peacefully, but I am still cranky. Mess with me and I'll dismember your head right here, right now, got it?" Courtney spat irritably.

Duncan chuckled. There was his Princess, his best friend.

* * *

**TBC.**

**[Hey.]  
**


	9. nine

Courtney tried to ignore the loud growls from her abdomen.

_Gosh, Bridgette—why do you have to be so gluttonous every morning? _

She has been staying over at Bridgette's condo ever since that occurrence with Duncan and Trent. She felt quite selfish, but Bridgette was more than happy to have another temporary roommate.

Truth is Courtney was just feeling lonely now. It's not like she'll admit that, you know. Duncan told her that she wouldn't see him much, because he was going to spend more time with Gwen; that also meant no sessions with him. Courtney felt culpable—she was hogging Duncan too much. Gwen was Duncan's girlfriend, not her.

She was just the best friend.

It's not like she was _jealous_. It's not like she _missed _him. Courtney just wasn't used to Duncan not being by her side, pestering her, touching her inappropriately… She wasn't used to not being with him.

Her stomach growled again.

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled to herself, rubbing her stomach absentmindedly.

Courtney saw a fast food restaurant and went inside. Normally, she wouldn't go inside these places. They violated the health code, what with the food being all oily—to her. She loathed fast food. It wasn't healthy, and the cashiers just didn't have any good customer service. Luckily, the waiters come up to you instead of you going up to the cashier and _trying _to order over their loud, excessive gossiping. But she was desperate.

She found a table at the far right corner and settled there. Not much people sat around her, and she liked that. For once, she wanted to feel solitary—but only just a smidge.

A waiter came up, looking tired. He brought out his notepad and pen routinely. Courtney liked that—he didn't hesitate to do his job. "Good morning, ma'am. Are you ready to order?" he asked politely but tiredly.

Courtney looked briefly at the menu. "I'd like a burger and fries. Please don't put any dairy products in the burger, though. As for the fries, don't make it too oily—just good enough. My beverage would be an ice-cold water _bottle_ and a medium-sized, glass cup that's washed thoroughly," she ordered in a bossy tone. "Thank you." She handed him her menu after he was done writing.

She was surprised; he didn't complain at her bossy attitude, unlike some other waiters and waitresses. Perhaps it was because they were too busy and he didn't have the time or strength to complain.

He grabbed the menu and left immediately.

Courtney heard another growl.

"We're already at the damn restaurant—be patient," she said irritably to her stomach. She slammed her forehead on the table.

"Wow. My absence must be driving you insane, eh, Princess?" a deep, recognizable voice announced out loud.

Courtney's head snapped up, seeing Duncan…with his arm wrapped around Gwen's waist. Courtney was happy that she saw Duncan, but for some reason, she wasn't completely happy.

"Duncan, Gwen," she acknowledged. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Well," Gwen answered, "we're in a greasy fast food restaurant, so that means we're going to watch some wrestlers tussle around like sumo freaks. What about you?" Ah, sarcasm.

Courtney rolled her eyes.

Duncan laughed out loud. "Ah, don't mind Gwen—she's a bit irked that I'm hanging out with you more," he assured her. He looked at Gwen. "Isn't that the reason why I've been spending almost five days with you now?"

"Enough with that tone, moron. I'm not stupid. You are. This world is. Shut up and let's eat already. I'm _starving_." She took a seat in front of Courtney. "Do you mind if we join you?"

_Oh no, of course not. I planned to enjoy my loneliness happily, but yes, you can ruin my only rare chance of peace by joining me, _is what she wanted to say but then—"I don't mind. Sit."

They both sat down, Duncan giving her a sly look as he did so. Gwen immediately grabbed a menu from the table behind her and hid her face from Courtney. Courtney didn't want to assume that Gwen did that so she wouldn't have to look at her. She didn't think that Gwen was that childish. Duncan, however, seemed to be oblivious by that. He gave Courtney a grin.

"So," he started conversationally, "what have you been up to the past days I've been gone? Been to any strip clubs lately, you lesbo?"

Courtney slapped him on his hand hard. "Shut up, Duncan. To tell you the truth, I was actually relaxing for the first time. I hung out with Bridgette since I haven't for a long time. Your absence was perfectly fine for me. I wasn't lonely at all," she said.

He gave her a non-convinced look. He leaned over to Gwen who was still reading the menu. Courtney hear him murmuring something to her, making her playfully cuss at him. Courtney didn't like it; she felt ignored. She hated being the third wheel, especially when she's around couples. It was a good thing they weren't all "lovey-dovey."

A waitress came by holding Courtney's order. She was surprised to see two more customers. "Is this order for all three of you?" she asked politely.

Gwen quickly replied to her before Duncan started one of his usual flirting techniques. Courtney almost laughed when Duncan glared at Gwen for doing that.

"I'll have a salad, and he will have the same thing Courtney has." A curious look was passed her way from Duncan. "I'm not on a stupid diet; I'm just a bit full right now."

The waitress wrote down the orders on a pink notepad. "Beverages? Dessert?"

"I'll have some iced tea and Duncan will have—"

"Beer," Duncan interrupted, grinning.

Courtney glowered him and kicked his shin from under the table. _Stupid idiot! Doesn't he know that it's extremely moronic to drink alcohol in the freaking morning?! With all that alcohol in his head, no wonder he's that incompetent!_

"I'm sorry, we don't serve alcohol in the morning. It's just for safety precautions," the waitress said, smiling apologetically. "Would you like some water, though?"

"Yeah, whatever." Duncan looked displeased. "I want some brownies, too."

Courtney's stomach growled at the mention of brownies. Three pairs of eyes were sent her way, including a smirk. "I—I want some brownies, as well," she muttered. "I'm just hungry, is all."

But they weren't listening after she said her last sentence. Duncan and Gwen were whispering something she couldn't quite comprehend. She assumed that they were flirting or talking about something that doesn't concern her. Despite that, yet again, she felt left out. She wasn't jealous, no. Just…left out. Out of the loop. Out in the cold, and many other idioms that could come to mind.

A memory sneaked inside Courtney's brain. This scene in front of her reminded Courtney of the time she went out with Bridgette and her new boyfriend. Of course, Courtney didn't want to go, because she wanted to study for an exam, which was in a week and a half. Which was also a lie, her studying. She didn't plan on studying; she just wanted to do something else other than watch her best friend and a guy make out erratically in front of her the whole entire time.

Anyway, the three of them planned on watching a movie—yes, it seemed typical and sort of cliched, but Bridgette was really persistent. Courtney thought it was stupid to come with them _on their first date_, but that was Bridgette, being incredibly thoughtless and desperate.

During the movie, Bridgette and the guy were cuddling and playing footsie with each other. Courtney knew, because she was just _right there_. It was like they forgot her—she _was _the third wheel, though. After the movie, she swore to never repeat an event like this ever again.

But fate seemed to hate her right now.

_As long as they don't start exchanging saliva in front of me, I'm good, _Courtney thought positively.

Duncan's lips went to Gwen's right ear and he whispered something. Gwen tried not to giggle, but she did accidentally. Duncan bit her earlobe playfully, and that killed Courtney's positive attitude. Gwen glared at him; she tried to stifle her smile, but her mouth twitched. The view in front of Courtney was absolutely ghastly; she wanted to vomit.

"Would you two mind not flirting in front of me? Look, if I don't stop this now, you guys might end up having sex right here in this innocent restaurant, where there are families and young children. Just giving you a little heads up," Courtney said to them out loud, annoyed. "This is for my sake, as well, because I don't want to gag out my dinner from _last night_."

Gwen gave her an _I-don't-really-care _look. "Well, then if you don't want to gag out your last night's dinner, I suggest that you eat the food in front of you before it gets cold so you gag out _that _instead. Happy?" she snapped. "Jeez, Courtney, we're sorry we're basically flirting in front of you, but if you're going to have that bitchy—"

Duncan nudged her, giving Courtney an anxious look. "Hey, Gwen, stop your—," he started.

"—then we're going to leave right now, 'kay?"

Courtney glowered at her with intense icicles. She was calm; she wasn't fazed by her angry tirade. But when she heard the word "bitchy," something inside her roared. Some people have called her that, but she ignored it most of the time. But right now, she was hungry, irritated, left out, and tired. Anger just didn't mix well with those.

She stood up and slammed her hands on the table, silencing everyone in the restaurants.

"You know, right now, I definitely want to beat the shi—!"

Duncan grabbed her arms over the table and walked around it, dragging her to the nearest restroom. The girls' restroom. He shoved her inside. Courtney's loud complaints and threats were ignored. She watched with shocked eyes as he leaned around her and locked the door.

His calm, teal eyes looked straight through her angry, onyx ones.

Courtney heard the groan of the dim light surround them. She just found out that she was trapped. No; his hands weren't on either side of her, but he was close enough to do that. She could beat him up—he might put up a good fight as well—but she didn't want to risk it. He will most likely take drastic measures. As in touching her inappropriately.

Irritated to the max, Courtney shouted out, _"WHAT?!"_

He chuckled, looking like he knew that she was going to do that. He stroked her left cheek softly and slowly. But his eyes were serious now.

"Okay, I guess I'm going to have to act like the mature adult here, huh?" he murmured. "You acted like a witch back there. I said _witch_, not _bitch_. I don't even know why you freak out over something that people call a lot of people here. Why do you?"

"None of your fucking business," she sneered.

"Hey, darling, I was just askin'. Anyways, I'd appreciate it if you didn't act like that again with Gwen. Yeah, I know she acted the same; I'll talk to her about that. But you're the freaking therapist here, Courtney. You even got an award proving how awesome and successful you are. But what you did today made me think that you didn't deserve it. Usually, I'd want to see a little cat fight, but not between the girl I love and my best friend. That's different. So take a chill pill." He paused for a while. "I'm…gonna go and talk to Gwen now. I'll leave you here until you calm down. See ya outside, Princess." He gave her a brief hug, unlocked the door, and went outside.

The door slammed close quietly.

Courtney slid down all the way to the ground, hitting her rear, but she didn't notice. Duncan's words hit her hard; it wasn't meant to hurt her, but she just hated accepting the fact that what he said was true. She was a therapist—a damn good one at that. She kept her composure and managed to not show her true emotions, especially her enemy: anger.

_But _why_? Why did I just suddenly snap like that? All Gwen did was say something that was only meant to irritate me, not make me chop off her legs. She didn't even do anything that made me feel contempt towards her. Is there something lurking beneath my emotions? Who am I _really_ angry at?_

She stood up, taking a deep breath. She was going to do something that she rarely did—apologize. She always thought that apologizing to someone was a pretty weak thing to do; it would cut your pride. But she pushed away what she believed in for years for this.

She went outside the restroom, but stopped when she heard Gwen and Duncan talking. She didn't see them, and neither did they, because the wall was blocking the view.

"…you're mature, Gwen?" Duncan was saying. "Seriously, I thought you grabbed onto that role when we became a damn couple? Oh, and another thing: don't call Courtney a 'bitch' anymore."

Courtney heard Gwen snort. "I didn't even call her a fucking bitch, Duncan. I said that she was acting _bitchy_. There's a huge difference between the two words, Dr. Phil. Besides, you can't stop me. If she keeps on acting all snappy, then I'll call her a bitch straight up. Maybe she is one. Anyway, why are you defending her as if you guys are friends? Why can't I call her a bitch, huh, Duncan? Why the hell do you know her so well? I thought being all happy buddies and crap is against the rules?" she sneered.

Duncan sighed. He was silent for a while. Courtney edged closer to hear more, to see if he was whispering something. The questions that Gwen demanded to Duncan were questions that Courtney didn't even think about asking. _Why are you defending me? Why do you want to be friends with me? How do you know that I don't like to be called a "bitch"?_

"'Kay, here me out, babe. I love you to death, but you don't need to be jealous; I can tell that you are. Courtney's my friend, my best friend. She helped me in a way that she doesn't help clients. She went beyond what she usually does—I can tell, you know? I care about her a lot, man… Don't take it the wrong way. I just like her. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be like this. I tell you what I do with Courtney, don't I? Don't you see the improvements? It may seem like Courtney didn't do shit, but she did a lot. She helps me; I help her. Simple as that." He sighed again, but this time exasperatedly. "I don't know why she doesn't like to be called a 'bitch,' to be honest."

"Did she…tell you why?" Gwen sounded calm now, _understanding_.

"No. I just feel it. There was this incident one time… She just looked so hurt, like something happened in the past. Ugh, I don't know. She'll probably tell me when she's ready."

"You—you seem more mature now, Duncan. I'm amazed."

"Well, thank Princess, sweetheart."

"Maybe I will."

"Good—'cause it sucks to know that my two favorite chicks are fightin' over me."

Courtney heard a loud noise, and she assumed that Gwen hit him. Good.

Courtney felt herself smiling. The way Duncan talked about her made her feel flattered and warm inside. There was this tingly feeling spreading throughout her entire body. It was unidentifiable, but, regardless, she liked it a lot. No one ever complimented her like that; no one ever thought so highly about her.

No one ever made her feel something warm and tingly like that—not even Bridgette.

So, she sighed and stepped out. She composed her face to make it look like she wasn't eavesdropping. But she knew it didn't matter; Duncan would know. He would always know.

The couple looked up. Duncan smiled at her whilst Gwen observed her carefully. Courtney ignored that and took a deep breath.

"I apologize for my rude, irrational, 'bitchy' outburst earlier," she said sincerely. "It was uncalled for and shameful. I'm a fucking therapist, aren't I?" She laughed without humor.

Gwen nodded, still observing her.

Duncan walked over to her and put a large hand on her shoulder. "She forgives ya, don't worry, 'kay?" He winked. "We gotta go now, Princess. I'd stay and chat with you, but time's a wastin', you know. I have work."

She was shocked. _"You have work?!"_ she yelled out incredulously.

"I'm not that much of a lazy shit, babe. I have responsibilities, too."

Courtney and Gwen snorted at that.

Duncan laughed out loud. He gave Courtney a hug. Courtney didn't know if she should hug back or not. She looked at Gwen, but she didn't look mad. So, hesitantly, she hugged back.

"I'll miss ya, Courtney," he whispered in her ear. "I'll probably hang out with you soon. But for now, gotta spend some time with my girl, you know." He kissed her jaw. "See ya."

That tingly feeling came back.

She watched Duncan go over to Gwen, laughing at her sort of angry face. He slung his arm over her shoulders casually and they headed out. Duncan didn't look back, but Gwen did. She looked at her briefly and gave her a small smile. Courtney knew that it was real and not forced. She was about to return the smile, but Gwen turned her head away.

Courtney looked at the table and found their food, untouched—with the check. She was going to yell at them to pay for their own food when she saw them kiss. It wasn't too long or too short; it was enough.

She smiled at the display of affection, although it made her want to gag a little. She still wasn't used to it. It made her immediately think of Bridgette and that guy.

She walked over to the table and sat down on the dingy chair. She started eating her cold fries. She was feeling warm still. Everything was going fine now. But there was something inside of her squirming around. No, it wasn't anger; something else. It felt all poky and it irritated her a bit.

It felt green.

**. . .**

_"Courtney…it's been a while, hasn't it? If you don't recognize who this is, it's your big sister—Charlotte. I mean, I'm your only big sister, right? Anyways, please call me as soon as possible; I want to know how you're doing, you know? And don't ignore me anymore, Court. I just want to talk to you. Better late than never. Please. I__…miss__—" _

She pressed the delete button hard, quickly.

She muttered a string of profanities under her breath, and walked to her bedroom. As soon as she entered her room, she collapsed on the bed happily, feeling a wave of fatigue hit her immediately. She didn't know why she was so tired today; it's only eleven-thirty in the morning. Today would be her only session with Lindsay. It was supposed to be three days before, Tuesday, but apparently she had yet _another _appointment with someone else_—her boyfriend_. Lindsay promised to pay Courtney a lot of money to schedule the appointment on Friday, twelve-fifteen in the afternoon.

Courtney turned over to her right, facing the cream-colored wall.

She couldn't quite explain the "tingly feeling" she was feeling earlier. She never knew that Duncan would be so sweet—in his own way, of course. You would never catch Duncan buying you flowers, calling you cute names instead of "babe," or having a picnic together as their first date. Duncan wouldn't buy you anything; he would call you "babe" or something stupid like "Princess"; your first date with him would probably be in the bedroom with him trying to score one with you. She wasn't sure about the latter, but she knew that the ones before it were true.

_It's strange on how I know him so much…,_ she mused internally. _It's like I can easily predict what might happen and what his actions would be, like I've known him forever. Queer._

Her cellphone vibrated from her pocket. Lazily, she answered the phone with a tired, "Hello?"

"Hey, Princess," Duncan's voice said on the other line. "You sound tired."

As soon as she heard his voice, she immediately sat up. She didn't feel so tired anymore. "Duncan," she acknowledged, slightly happy. "How did you get my number?"

"Bridgette…_obviously_. She's your only friend besides me, anyway." His tone was frank. It irritated her.

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me. Not that I care. Who cares if I don't have loads of friends?" She took a deep breath. "Why did you call me?"

"Just wanted to talk to you."

For some reason, Courtney smiled at that. His tone didn't have anything romantic underneath; it was just casual, as if they're just friends—which they are.

Then she frowned. She was acting like a typical, naïve high school girl. She wasn't like that in high school, and she will not even be one right now. _I am a mature twenty year old woman. I will not be swayed by my friend who is the embodiment of immaturity. No way. Nope. Uh-uh. Never. I'm not in denial._

"Oh, gag," Courtney said. "What's the real reason? No one calls someone just because they wanted to talk to that person. That's stupid, and if you're trying to be all sweet and shit, it's not working at all."

"Good afternoon to you, too, sunshine. And that was the real reason. I feel bad for not talking to you. And I am stupid, so I guess me doing stupid things is not surprising. But I'm not trying to be sweet or shit." He was silent for a moment. "Why? Did you think that I said that just to make you fall for me? Is it working? Wanna make out?"

"Why don't you shove up those stupid questions up your fucking ass, Duncan. I'm not in the mood for you to play around with me; go bother Gwen, if you'd like. I'm sure she'd love to—what?! _What?!_ Did you just say 'good afternoon' to me?! Please tell me that you suddenly suffer from blindness and stupidly trusted a man who has the wrong time when you asked him the time." Courtney was never late for a session with a client. Never.

"Uh, I'm not, Princess. Why? You late for something?" he asked, confused.

Courtney looked at the time and cursed loudly. "Bye, Duncan," she said hastily, ending the call.

She got off of her bed and ran straight to the restroom. She brushed her teeth while brushing her haystack hair. She dumped her toothbrush and brush in her basket of necessities. She changed her clothes to her usual attire. She grabbed her keys and cellphone, running down the stairs, buttoning her blazer. She rushed out to her car and started the engine. Immediately, she zipped right out of her lot, driving slightly over the limit.

Her cellphone rang, and Courtney cussed loudly. She answered the phone: "What, Lindsay?"

_"Courtney, where are you? I've been waiting since, like, for_ever_, you know. Hurry quickly! I'm getting lonely," _she whined.

"Please be patient, Lindsay. I'm almost there. Some complications…happened. Don't worry."

_"All right. But hurry!"_

Courtney pressed the flipped her _Sidekick _close, muttering curses. "Stupid, whiny bimbo."

About fifteen minutes later, she arrived in front of the building. She got out of her car, briefly noticing that she never put on her seat belt. She ran with her heels miraculously. But that was Courtney, being all graceful on anything even with three-inch high heels. She heard Jill ask why she was late, but she ran past her. She cursed at the stairs for being so long. She saw Miranda coming, and pushed her out of her way. Courtney immediately went inside the office.

And saw no one.

Courtney was dead silent. It was like a typhoon. She was moving as fast as she can. The winds were blowing rapidly, striking everyone, striking everything. But now the eye was here. Her surroundings were silent, but inside Courtney, something was brewing. Something deadly. Something volcanic. Something that could blow up this building.

Anger. Pure rage. It was locked up, but now the bars were cracking bit by bit. Her anger was strong. It was going to break out of the cage soon. If someone or something tapped her, that could immediately set it off.

Sensing Miranda behind her, she asked quietly, "Where's Lindsay?"

Miranda gulped audibly behind her. "Uh, she—she just l-left, Miss," she stuttered nervously. "She, uh, told—told me that she wanted to get some bagels because sh-she was hung-ungry. But she said she'll…be…" She trailed off.

Courtney faced towards her, eyes livid as hell. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and her nostrils flared. She looked like an angry rhinoceros. Her figure was shivering, anger pouring out of her quickly. She saw red, she felt red.

Then an explosion happened.

_"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?!"_ she roared in a deafening tone. _"THAT STUPID BIMBO SPECIFICALLY TOLD ME TO COME HERE IMMEDIATELY AND I FUCKING DID! SHE SAID IN A DAMN UGLY VOICE THAT SHE HAS BEEN WAITING. AND WHEN I COME, SHE'S NOT FUCKING HERE! WHAT THE HELL GOES ON IN HER EMPTY HEAD?! WELL, I GUESS THAT QUESTION MUST BE SELF-EXPLANATORY, RIGHT?! WHEN SHE COMES HERE, OH, SHE BETTER FUCKING PRAY THAT SHE MANAGES TO RUN AWAY. TO HELL WITH THAT—"_

"Now, Princess, calm down. You have a vein throbbing on your forehead," a nonchalant voice said out of the hallway.

Duncan came into view with a confused-looking Lindsay behind him. When Lindsay saw how livid Courtney looked, she hid behind Duncan.

Courtney slowly brought her arm up, pointing a finger at Lindsay. "You," she said menacingly.

Duncan grabbed Miranda's and Lindsay's arm, pushing them behind him. "Darlings, you guys have to get outta here. I don't care where you go, but just not near this room—unless you want a hearing aid at this young, sexy age. Now, now. Go away. That's right; you move your legs, Lindsay. Follow what Miranda is doing. Good girl. Bye," he said, and slammed the door shut. "Dumb bitch."

Courtney charged over to Duncan. She pushed him against the wall and grabbed a handful of his shirt with one hand. He was off the ground by mere inches. Her face was centimeters against his, too.

"I almost had her," she whispered angrily. "I almost had her. And then _you had to go be all Prince Charming and save her skinny ass_! If you think she's a dumb…bitch, then why the hell did you make her go away?! I would've eliminated her already! The world would regain its intelligence!"

He rolled his eyes at her, unsurprisingly not fazed by her anger and the fist gripping his shirt. "Oh no," he said mockingly. "Now let go of my shirt and calm down. Jeez, the same thing happened earlier, but I guess your explosive words just now are bit more dangerous."

"Shut up! She told me to come here ASAP. I sped over here, rushing, and when I arrive, she's _not here_! What, am I supposed to suddenly forgive her? That's not me; I don't just give out forgiveness like a little angel." The anger was moving around her body quickly, like millions of bouncing balls.

"Hey, Drama Queen, chill. You—"

"I just want to tear off someone's arm, and if you don't get out of my way—"

"Oi, you're getting irritating, Courtney. Shut the fu—"

_"I'm SICK AND TIRED of all of these things happening to—" _She stopped talking. Her grip on his shirt loosened. Everything was swirling. _What was happening?_ She clutched her head; it was aching. Knives were stabbing it endlessly. She barely heard Duncan who was calling her repeatedly, shouting out her name.

"Make it stop," she whispered. "Make the pain stop…"

"Courtney! What's wrong?!" _Duncan, Duncan… Make it go away…_

She fell forward, Duncan immediately catching her.

* * *

**TBC.**

**[Spring Break.]  
**


	10. ten

Duncan sat by Courtney's sleeping figure on a small, cushy chair. His right elbow was propped up on the arm of it, his hand cradling his cheek. The air may seem peaceful, but what Duncan was feeling wasn't. Sounds heard through ears inside the room were the machines and Courtney's soft breathing.

He really didn't want to be here. He hated hospitals. He hated doctors. He hated everything in here. It made him feel uncomfortable, and that's the opposite feeling hospitals were _supposed _to give. When he saw the doctor put the IV on the front of her hand, he turned away. It's not like he was afraid of needles; it's just that…the _doctor _was holding the needle. If it were a different person, like a gang leader, he would've been fine.

He stayed for Courtney.

But Duncan was shocked when Courtney just fell on top of him. She was a strong person—physically and mentally. At least, that's what he thought. _How can this abnormally strong woman faint so easily _was what he asked to himself. It just didn't seem logical for him.

He knew that she was stressing out—over her school work, over her clients, and maybe over Duncan himself. But she managed to balance all of them. Could it be that there was something else beneath her regular worries? Her intense anger didn't help it at all, as well. Duncan thought it was something else—perhaps something she didn't really want to tell Duncan, or her…past, which could very well relate to the former.

The door opened, showing an alarmed-looking Bridgette. Her low ponytail was loose, and multiple of hair strands were scattered everywhere. She went inside and closed the door. She ran to the bed and stood next to Duncan. She placed a shaking hand on Courtney's IV-free hand.

Duncan didn't feel the need to say anything. He knew she was too loss for words. He could feel her agony scorching out of her vulnerable form. Bridgette knew Courtney more than anyone—he couldn't imagine the grief she was feeling now.

"How—how did this happen?" Bridgette whispered heartbreakingly. "Courtney fainted. _Courtney fainted. _Don't you see what's wrong with that sentence?" She turned towards him with teary eyes.

Duncan wanted to look away; he couldn't stand seeing someone cry. He didn't know what to say.

"I called her on the phone to see if she was okay. You see, this morning we, my girlfriend and I, met her at this fast food restaurant. We were doing okay for a while when Courtney suddenly snapped, because we were flirting in front of her and she didn't like that. She and Gwen got into this little fight, and I talked to both of them. Courtney apologized, and everything was fine after that," he explained.

"Courtney _apologized_?" She sounded incredulous.

"Believe it or not, Bridgette." He sighed. "Anyways, I called her again, because I wanted to check up on her. I think she was at her house. We were joking around, and then all of a sudden, she started screaming. I think she was late for a session with someone.

"I rushed over to her building because I felt like I had to… It's hard to explain, but I was just worried. When I arrived, I heard this loud yelling; I assumed it was Courtney, and I was right. That Lindsay chick was behind me. Obviously Courtney was yelling and shit because of Lindsay. So I told Lindsay and that Miranda chick to leave so I could talk to her. I was afraid Courtney might beat them up." He chuckled shortly. "I tried calming her down, but she pinned me against the wall with her damn strength. She was still yelling, and I started to get mad at her, telling her to calm down. Then she just…fainted. Just like that. All of this is fucking messed up, man…"

Bridgette was already full-blown crying. She covered her face with her hands and just sobbed.

Duncan looked around, feeling slightly awkward and helpless. He scratched his cheek. And then he stood up hesitantly, and slowly put his arms around her. He felt uncomfortable, but he couldn't just sit there and watch her cry.

"The stress…her irrepressible anger…her pain…," she was mumbling to herself. "All of it mixed together must be agonizing… I can't do anything about it, because she doesn't want my help. She doesn't want anybody's help… She never does…" She looked up at Duncan, her olive eyes glistening with tears. "I love her, Duncan. Literally, I'm all she ever has—except you. I want to help her, but I guess you're the only who can help her."

Duncan's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked, perplexed. "How am I going to help her? Since she doesn't open up that much to you, what makes you say that she'll open up to me?"

"Because you understand her more. I always feel sorry for her and I try to help her—but you _understand_ her. You, out of all people, can help her. You, you, and only you."

He was speechless. This responsibility was suddenly flung against him. But he knew that he had to help Courtney—she helped him, anyways. It's not like he owed her anything. He did, but he just wanted to help her. She was his friend, his best friend, someone he cared about deeply.

He would help her no matter what, even if Courtney didn't want him to. No one will stand in his way—not even Gwen.

"Again," a tired, annoyed voice said beside him. "I see my two friends _hugging _now. Do you guys secretly like each other? Are you guys dating? Stop cheating on Gwen, you freaky pig."

Bridgette immediately pulled away and grabbed Courtney's hand. Tears of sadness were gone; tears of joy poured down. "Courtney!" she cried happily. "You're awake!"

"Obviously," Courtney muttered. She started to get up slowly.

"Courtney, you shouldn't—"

"Don't worry, Bridge; I'm fine. I just need to get up and stretch. Ugh, that was horrifying. I didn't sleep well _at all_. All I saw was…darkness. It was stupid."

Duncan was just staring at her.

Courtney looked at him. "Why are you just staring at me like that?"

He then gave her a tight embrace, grinning hugely. He buried his face in her soft hair, and his grip tightened. He was happy that she was awake. Just the sound of her voice made him happy. She was almost like family to him—not like a sibling; she didn't really match that character. She was probably even more special than family. _On par with Gwen?_

He shook his head, removing that thought. He loved Gwen—his "love" for Courtney didn't match up to that. Right?

"You're cutting off my air supply, Duncan," Courtney muttered. "Let go of me. I just woke up from that stupid slumber, and you suddenly hug me as if I just magically became alive from the living dead. I'm a patient; be gentle with me."

Duncan laughed and pulled away. His hand was resting on her forearm, though.

"How you feeling, babe?" he asked. "Missed me? Dreamt about me?"

"What part of 'All I saw was darkness' do you not understand?"

"Maybe you saw a flash of green in there."

"That must've been the vomit that I yakked out when I thought of you, then. If I did, that is."

Bridgette giggled. When Duncan glared at her, she turned away, trying to stifle more of the giggles. She cleared her throat and grabbed Courtney's free hand again. The light air was gone now. It was time to get serious.

Courtney stared back at Bridgette. She looked quite irritated, and that bewildered Duncan.

_Are they having some kind of telepathy conversation? _he thought. _Or is it those things only close friends have? A chick thing?_

"I'm fine, Bridgette."

"What happened?"

"I saw Duncan's face and fainted."

Duncan glared at her, feeling aggravated. Courtney was seriously being evasive. He didn't like the fact that Courtney wasn't straight up about what happened. He knew that Courtney was hiding things from him. But that wasn't the problem right now. Courtney was doing this to herself. Her anger was making it worse.

"Courtney," Duncan said firmly. "Tell us the truth. You need to. You need to tell that damn doctor, too."

She rolled her eyes at him. "There's nothing to tell. I was just overwhelmed by my anger. Nothing else. So drop it and we can get on with our freaking lives, all right?"

Bridgette sighed exasperatedly. "Oh, my _gosh_, Courtney!" she yelled. "Can't you at least open up to us?! You fainted. _You freaking fainted!_ That's not like you. You're the strongest girl I know. Don't blame your anger for this. It's your fault for not controlling it! There's something else. It involves your past, right?"

"My past wasn't even lingering in my mind during that little, insignificant incident, Bridgette. Anyways, the past is the past."

"I _know_ that! But what's stressing you out?! School? Your work? What?"

Duncan felt like he shouldn't be here. But he had to—just in case something happened to Courtney. Bridgette was doing the right thing by confronting Courtney and demanding to know what's causing her stress. Courtney was being stubborn. Irritatingly stubborn. He wanted to do something drastic just so she could spit it out already. He didn't want to interfere, though. In a _way_, this wasn't his fight.

Bridgette took a deep breath, looking away from Courtney for a while. "You're…not alone, Courtney," she murmured. "You have me and Duncan. Why do you keep everything to yourself? There's a reason why we're here, you know."

Courtney stole a quick glance at Duncan. "My sister called," she announced monotonously. "Happy?"

Duncan's eyes widened a little. He didn't know that Courtney had a sister. She never told him, but then again Courtney was sort of like Duncan; she didn't really tel much about herself.

"Charlotte called?" Bridgette gasped, obviously shocked. "Why—why would she? Your last contact with her was when you first had your job as a therapist. She didn't like the idea of you handling a job and school at the same time."

"She disappeared from the face of Earth because she got married, remember? We weren't even close, so why would she keep in touch? I bet she only called me because she was forced to by her husband. He always tried to make us close." She grimaced.

"Voice mail?"

"Yeah. Now are you done with your annoying interrogations?"

Bridgette opened her mouth to say something, but then her watch beeped. She looked down on it and muttered, "Crap." She gave Courtney a brief hug and patted Duncan on the shoulder. She waved at them, smiling, and quickly left.

"Why was she in a rush?" Duncan asked.

"Work."

Duncan watched Courtney was she looked around her surroundings with a look of abhorrence planted on. She situated herself on the bed contentedly, moaning. She looked down on Duncan's hand on her forearm, eyebrows furrowing deeply. Her worry lines showed. She lifted her head up and directed her eyes straight through Duncan's.

Duncan saw past the frontage she always puts up. He could see the vast trauma she's feeling. He could see traces of pain from her past lingering there. It was like they were glued inside of her; no one tried to cleave it out. Bridgette tried, as she said, but she couldn't. Permanent pain. The same thing Duncan has.

"Talk to me, Princess. Please," he whispered. "Just try. And I'll try to do the same for you so my problems will get off of your back. You won't have to stress out anymore. No more worries. And I'll help you with your other clients. I'll help. Just let me."

Courtney stared.

"Scratch that out. I'll help. And you can't stop me."

She raised an eyebrow at him, slightly smirking. It was like she was challenging him. It was like she thought his resilience was humorous. But it wasn't. She was leaning towards evasiveness again.

"Cut your crap, Courtney."

Then she glared at him. The icicles in her eyes were nothing but faux terrorization. Fake. Fake. Fake. An illusion. Something that tried to hide the pain.

The hand on her forearm slid up to her shoulder, gripping it firmly but softly. He brought his face closer to hers so he could communicate with her properly.

They both stared each other down. If it were from an outsider's perspective, they would think that they were having a deadly staring match. But, in actuality, they were having a silent conversation—the same thing that Bridgette and Courtney had earlier. Courtney stopped it, looking away. She bit her lip.

"Why?" she whispered.

"Why what?"

She moved her head and looked at him. "Why do you want to know? It's not important, anyways. Why?" Her voice broke. "Give me a fucking response! Why would you go this far for me? All I did was insult you and push you away without any reason! I do things, and then I don't tell _you why_! I'm a total hypocrite all the time! Why, why, why, Duncan?! If this is your idea of a joke, then stop. This isn't the time to be assing around, you know. So why?"

He rolled his eyes at her, irritated. "Jeez, you fucking idiot. The answer is simple. For a so-called 'mastermind' like you, you should know this." He smirked at her. "We're friends. Best friends. Close friends. Got it? Is it wedged inside your big-ass brain now, darling? Or do I need to kiss you for it to go in more? I'm sure my tongue will help."

She grimaced and smacked his arm. Then she smiled at him. "Importunate bastard, aren't you?" she muttered.

"The one and only, Princess."

She laughed softly and took a deep breath. She was going to start. "You pledge that you'll talk to me about…_your_ past, right?"

"Yeah, whatever. Hurry the hell up, babe." His hand that was gripping her shoulder was around her arm now, giving it a small squeeze.

Courtney didn't answer back. She stared at her fist which was clenching a handful of her blanket. She looked like she was contemplating on how to start her story, or if she wanted to do this. Duncan hoped it was the first one or else he'll have to keep on persuading her, irritating her for it.

"Well? When are you going start saying some words, babe?"

She glared at me, nostrils flaring. "Shut up first! This isn't effortless for me, you know—and you should know that, right?"

Patience washed over Duncan—surprisingly. He watched her face play out a variety of emotions. Her eyebrows furrowed even more; her worry lines showed even more, as well. As he did this, he noticed that Courtney had freckles. They were splattered on the bridge of her nose, and it looked really cute. It was out of place for her; her personality didn't really go well with freckles. But Duncan liked it on her.

His thumb stroked her arm, hoping that this gesture would help her a little bit. He can tell that she was wondering where to start, how to phrase it. You would think that all you have to do was spill it out, but apparently, it wasn't that simple.

"My mother died when I was seven years old," Courtney said emotionlessly all of a sudden.

Duncan was surprised by the way she started her story. It was a dark, hurtful sentence to say. His hand gripped her arm tighter, telling her that he was here.

"I wasn't predominantly close with her or my father for that matter. We had a formal relationship. Of course, she nurtured me and taught me many things. She always thought I was her little princess, as it says on the photograph you saw in my office. My father was very busy with work, so I didn't really see him much.

"After my mother died, my father was still the same workaholic."

_I can see where you got that horrible trait from, _Duncan thought bitterly.

"But…he didn't talk to me anymore. Before my mother's passing, he would try to strike up conversations with me if he had the time—which was once in a blue moon. I appreciated that; at least he tried, right?" She took a deep breath.

Duncan wanted to be brave like her. He knew that she was having a hard time, but she was actually _saying something_. Unlike himself. But he didn't want to be negative—that wasn't like him. If Courtney could open up her painful past, then so could he.

She didn't say anything. She stared at the white blanket draped on her legs.

"My father started dating _those _kinds of women," she sneered, lips curling over slightly.

Duncan questioned slowly, "What do you mean?"

"Seductresses. Vixens. Succubus. Concubine. Hookers. Prostitutes. Strippers. I guess most of them fall in the same grouping, don't they? I'll call it…"—her eyes turned dark, incredibly dark—"'Fucking Horrendous.' The name fits.

"Fortunately, most of them never stayed long with him. It was a trashy negotiation—an immature, desperate business, you could say. Sex for money. Money for sex. No matter how you put it, it's still ghastly." Her eyes closed now. "My father stayed with one girl for a long time, though. She was absolutely vindictive. My father thought he was hopelessly in love. He was a naïve fucker who was slowly losing money. He knew I hated her, though. So he tried to bribe me by buying things that were 'purportedly' from her. Like Barbie dolls, books, hair ties, brushes, nail polishes, teddy bears, and all things girlie. I absolutely hated the teddy bears—they were nonstop. It's that woman's fault for making me loathe them."

"So that's why you hate them," Duncan muttered.

"What?"

"Never mind. Continue."

Courtney took another deep breath. "I tried warning him about her, but he said I was just imagining things. I always thought that I heard my mother's voice near me. I was still in the state of denial; I still couldn't believe my mother was dead, you know? My sister, Charlotte, didn't want to deal with any drama, so she ignored it. She didn't really care, actually. But her lackadaisical attitude was a cover up for her spinelessness," she spat.

"How old is your sister?"

"She's twenty-four."

Courtney didn't continue again. Duncan's patience never wavered; she was saying _something_, right? Her eyes opened slowly, but she turned her head away from him. She was most likely staring at the window near them. It was raining outside, the sky being gloomy, matching the air in the room. It made Duncan frown. _The damn rain isn't helping Courtney at all, _he thought.

"My sister didn't really play a big part in my life—she was in her own little world, you could say. Yes, it was selfish, but that's Charlotte. She always runs away from her problems and problems she's partially involved in." Her fists clenched tighter. "She did try and converse with me at times. I can tell she cares about me, but she just doesn't know how to show it. She's like our father. She's going to be incredibly lost as she grows older. Luckily, she's married to a a good man."

Duncan didn't want to ask this question, but he was curious. "Do…you care about her?"

Silence replied back to him. This wasn't unexpected, though. But Duncan didn't know if he hit a rough spot. She said so herself that her sister wasn't close with her at all, but even so, don't family members still care for each other no matter what?

Duncan slightly winced at that thought. It was like a punch in the face for him.

"In a way…I do care about her. She's my sister."

"What about your dad?"

"I'm never going to answer that question, so don't even think about inquiring it again." Her voice was steel; it wasn't a cover up.

"Sorry."

Courtney took a deep breath. "Just informing you. But I'll skip some parts of my story since most of them are horribly mundane." She paused. "My father soon got tired of me being 'such a naughty girl.' He assumed that it's just a silly phase that young kids go through. But apparently, to him and that damn woman, it was just getting too much. I kept saying 'Mommy this, Mommy that' so much they almost sent me to the mental clinic."

Duncan got irritated with that.

"They didn't. My father didn't want to ruin his reputation. What kind of successful business man would want to be known for having a supposed delusional daughter in the mental clinic rather than his fame and fortune? I was fairly smart for my age, so that's why I knew how my father thought.

"With that being said, me knowing how terrible my father's become, I gave him an attitude and called him 'Father' more. I used to call him 'Daddy,' but the name just doesn't suit him anymore. Regardless of that, yes, I was even more naughtier.

"One time, my father caught me throwing away a teddy bear that girl got me. Then…then…" She faced forward, dipping her head down. "He—he called me a bitch after I got mad at him."

Duncan was beyond, _beyond _shocked. Never in his life has he ever heard a dad call his own daughter a bitch. Duncan watched boring movies about that, and even heard rumors about someone being called that by their parents, but he himself has never heard it directly. He wanted the truth. He got the truth. A parent calling their own offspring something as horrible as that was just too wrong. His own dad—and his dad _hates his freaking guts_—never once called him that.

"It may sound like a total lie, but it's true. He kept calling me that. As I grew older, suffering from his harsh names for me, I got angrier and angrier with him. When I was fifteen, I got emancipated. My sister's boyfriend, her husband presently, helped me with that. Even Bridgette, of course. But the emancipation didn't affect my school life, my grades, and everything else that was my top priorities in high school. I breezed through everything easily—with a few mishaps, but I breezed through them, as well." She peeked at him. "That's all, I guess. Short but long in my opinion."

He stared at his hand clutching her arm tight. She didn't seem to notice it, and neither did he. His emotions were going haywire inside of him. She said it. She said the past life that was hurting her up until now. She said it without tears. But Duncan knew she wasn't going to cry; she was tougher than that. He liked her for that.

But will he be able to do the same thing? He didn't want to compare his past life with her, but his past life was bad, too. Courtney's own started when her mother died. Duncan's, however, started when he was around middle school. But he didn't notice it yet. High school, when he was older, wiser, was when it started. Officially started.

"Did my childhood shock you so much you're utterly speechless?" Courtney's quiet voice murmured near him. "That's why I didn't want to tell you it. You'd have that stupid expression on. I hate silence when it comes to this. Say something, all right? You're making me want to take back what I said."

Duncan slid his hand all the way down to her tube-covered one. He grasped it gently, carefully, just in case he might hurt her.

"Idiot, say something. You move your mouth, and your vocal chords do the work."

He smirked at that. Despite her hard efforts on telling her tragic past, she was still acting the same. _Will I be able to do that? _"Your dad is a fucking son of a bitch," he snarled. "He's the bitch, not you. I know you're a bit sensitive towards the word, but hey, it's the truth, right? Even that woman is a bitch. You're not a bitch, Courtney. You act like one, but you're not _truly _one."

She smiled softly at him. "Thanks, Duncan," she whispered. "It feels slightly relieving to have it off my chest, the story, I mean.."

"No wonder it's so big," he joked.

Expecting a quick snap from the mocha-haired girl, Duncan was surprised to find himself encased within her slender yet toned arms. Her face was buried in his neck. Her grip was firm. He almost couldn't breathe.

"What the hell?" Duncan said, surprised. "Another uncharacteristic move, Princess."

"This was a sudden action. My brain wasn't totally in synchronization with me, so I guess it made me do this. This was purely accidental; I didn't want to hug you." Lie.

"Then why are you still holding me?" A smirk grew on his face. "Lying is bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, ba—"

Courtney hugged him tighter. "Shut up, you immature Neanderthal! Maybe I wanted to asphyxiate you, but I guess my arms were too tired to do so. I told you; I didn't sleep well. I need to catch up on my sleep. Humans need twelve hours of sleep. In this age, we need at least eight."

"'This age'? You're old. You even talk like it."

"I wish I could hit you, but I can't. The IV tube isn't long enough for me to do that. After I get out of this confinement, I suggest you run away from me as soon as possible."

"Let's hope the IV needle is still stuck in your hand so you won't go that far."

He knew that Courtney wouldn't hold back even if the IV was holding her back. She would break it easily. She woudn't for now, but she would regret it later on, breaking the IV tube. Not breaking Duncan, _the IV tube_.

Courtney laughed out loud. Really, really, really loud. Her arms loosened around him, and her head slid down to his chest. She was shaking, still laughing. She snorted in between and just kept on laughing. It was another shocking thing to see.

Duncan thought her laugh sounded crazy. It was a laugh that was infectious, and slowly, he chuckled a bit, too. Her laugh was cute, as well. Lately, Duncan's been finding a lot of cute things Courtney possesses. He began noticing the little things she has.

She had seven freckles.

* * *

**TBC.**

**[La, la, la ~ ]**


	11. eleven

"So…does that mean it's my turn?" Duncan asked, playing with her hand. "'Cause dude, I think it's fair since you told me your ugly past."

Courtney rolled her tired eyes at him. "I guess that's one way of putting it," she muttered bitterly. "And it's okay if you don't say anything, Duncan; I'm not forcing you."

He stared long and hard on the bed. His mouth was turned down, a frown replacing his usual smirk. "I want to, but how can you just say it like that? I know you had a hard time trying to explain it in a way that wouldn't hurt you as much, but…damn, Princess, I don't know if I can do that."

Right now, Courtney wanted to beat up Duncan. He wasn't being his usual self: all confident and annoying. His tone was still the same, but his attitude right now was bugging the hell out of her. She hated the weak side of Duncan—even though his weak side was also the hidden cowardice within him. But she didn't like it. She liked the fact the he tried to overcome it and did. Almost.

"Quit your pessimism, Duncan," she snapped. "It's so unlike you, and I hate it. Negativity won't help you any better, and it sure as hell won't make me be all, 'Oh, sweetheart, what shall I do to help you?' and baby you as if you were such a weak thing. You're a strong man, both physically and mentally. You resemble me that way except I'm not an annoying person, I don't have a ghastly Mohawk; I have wisdom; I don't have genitals that still need to be grown out; and I most certainly _am not _a huge pervert."

He laughed. "Ouch."

Although Courtney wanted to know what Duncan's past was—she did want to help him with his past, which involved knowing, but she was quite curious to what his past life was like—but she tried to remain patient. It was hard to do, but Duncan was her friend, so she'll try.

"Duncan," she started, "the only reason why I could tell you about my past was because it was the right time. I wasn't prepared. You and Bridgette kept on pestering me about it, being so persistent. I had to say it. Not only because I was forced, but because it was time. Speaking of Bridgette, I'll probably have to tell her…" She trailed off. "Anyways, though, the timing was just right. There."

She bit her lip and looked down. There was something else that Duncan should know. She didn't want to tell him it, but Duncan was just so trusting and understanding. What she'll say may make her look piteous, but she deeply trusted Duncan.

"And…while I said my story, I wanted to—" She broke off, taking a deep breath. Duncan stroked her arm comfortingly. "I wanted to cry. I wanted to full out cry. I just wanted to—to let it all out, but I stood strong. I will not be crying. No. I don't cry."

Duncan furrowed his eyebrows at her. He was silent, though looking slightly shocked.

_Of course he would look shocked, _she thought. _Duncan knows I don't cry no matter what the circumstance is. I don't cry; I'm not that pathetic. It's stupid to cry. Weak. Shows inferiority._

Courtney was taught to remain strong by herself. All the past events that have happened to her made her this way. She had set her own beliefs and will only believe in her own beliefs. No one will ever try to convince her into believing about something else. She was stubborn, and that helped her with her strong willpower. She'll keep on fighting. She doesn't carry a white flag, nor will she ever use it, if she had one, to surrender. Giving up was not her forte.

But Duncan was like that, too. Even if it was something simple, he would stand his ground. He managed to make Courtney spill out her past life to him when she couldn't even do it to Bridgette, her best friend for years. Duncan was something special. He was like Courtney—which kept on surprising her. Despite their differences, they had a lot in common. Though that only counted for what they experiences in the past, it was true. He was a laid back person; she was an uptight person. But that was only the cover. The basic. Not the main one.

"Courtney," Duncan whispered, "I think I'm—"

The door opened, showing Courtney's doctor, Dr. Conway. He was smiling hospitably, holding a clipboard. Two nurses came out behind him and immediately checked the monitors, writing down notes. Dr. Conway gently closed the door and headed to the left of Courtney.

"Miss Neville," he said softly, "you're awake quite early. That's good. How long have you been awake?"

"Almost an hour," Duncan answered him, narrowing his eyes.

Dr. Conway looked at Duncan. "Oh, sir, I'm afraid visiting hours are over. It's already eight o' five. I apologize for not seeing you there. But you can come back tomorrow. The nurses will give you a pass to make you come earlier. I assume you are the boyfriend?" he inquired.

"You assume wrong," both Courtney and Duncan said out loud.

He laughed, smiling gently. He had a knowing twinkle in his eye. "My bad. But yes, you have to leave. Hospital rules. I'm so very sorry, Mr…?" He left the sentence hanging, obviously hoping Duncan would finish his sentence.

Duncan glared at him.

"All right, sir. The nurses will escort you out."

"No thanks, man. I'll go out myself. Now where's that pass you were talkin' about?" His tone sounded irritated, disrespectful.

"Duncan," Courtney hissed under her breath to him. "Your manners!"

Dr. Conway heard that and chuckled. He looked towards the nurse near him, who was still jotting stuff down. "Nurse Santos, if you please."

She nodded and walked to the door, letting it open for Duncan.

Duncan scowled. He bent over to Courtney and kissed her cheek softly. "I'll be back, Court," he muttered. "These damn aliens won't stand in my freakin' way. Stupid smiles and stupid formal crap they're spouting out. Disgusting. See ya. You better get better." He waved once and grudgingly followed the nurse.

The door was slammed shut loudly, echoing in the semi-silent room. Dr. Conway let out a small whistle, shaking his head chuckling. It seemed as if nothing ever intimidated him. Courtney didn't like that; she knew he was scared of Duncan. But she had to respect the authorities. Even though she herself was an adult, this man was older and—unfortunately for Courtney—wiser than her.

He went up to her, grabbing the IV and observing it. "How are you feeling, Miss Neville?" he questioned. "Do you feel any pain at all?"

Courtney suddenly felt her headache. She didn't even notice. Perhaps it was because she was so engrossed on her story earlier. "Now that you mention it, Dr. Conway, I do. Headache," she muttered. She tried to push the pain away, but it stayed stubborn—like the owner of the brain.

"I assume that you have been stressing out, yes?"

She nodded reluctantly.

"Well, Miss Neville, you have to break in some relaxation time in between your hectic schedules. This isn't healthy for you, evidently. You're at a young age, but if this continues, you stressing out, worse things may eventually happen once you reach the age of thirty. It's most likely possible."

_Fuck. _"Any suggestions, Dr. Conway? Something I can do to help my body?"

"Drink lots of fluid; your body seems to be dehydrated. As I said before, try to fit in some leisure time for yourself. You may be an overachiever, Miss Nevile, but even successful overachievers have to have some relaxation time, right? As for your headaches, I strongly suggest you take painkillers. Follow my instructions and you'll be fine. I propose you get check ups once a month. Everyone should. No one's invincible."

"But didn't I have a stroke or something?" Courtney asked. "I mean, I felt this aching sensation in my head before I…um, fainted."

Dr. Conway put his gloved fingers on her neck, feeling the pulse. He pursed his lips. "That may be so. At first. But what were you doing before your fainting occurred?"

Courtney felt embarrassed to tell him. She didn't want to. But for the sake of her health, she had to. She still had things to do.

"I was yelling at someone," she explained, not looking at him. "I was enraged. I just wanted to punch someone in the face."

"Ah, I see. Your anger must've drained all of your energy out, leaving your brain weak. Restless. It's good to vent out your feelings, Miss Neville, but please do it in a proper way. Anger can do unexplainable things to you. Scientific theories and life experiences are two diverse things. We shan't put them in the same circumstance." He wrote things on his clipboard. "I will send a nurse right away to give you some fluids and painkillers. In the meantime, you should take a rest, Miss Neville. I realize that you are a strong woman, so you don't need to stay at this hospital for long. We'll see how everything goes, and perhaps you may leave early morning. How does that sound?"

She nodded, smiling. "Thank you, Doctor," she said sincerely.

Dr. Conway smiled back at her. "Oh, Miss Neville. You are so lucky to have such a good friends. Especially that young man with you. He doesn't seem too fond of me, though." He laughed. "Well, no matter. Have a good rest, dear." He smiled again and left.

Courtney let out a deep breath and collapsed on the bed.

**. . .**

Her dark eyes watched Bridgette pace around her living room, biting her thumb nail. Her sock-covered feet marched left to right, left to right. The scene was making Courtney dizzy, but she waited and drank more water from the bottle Bridgette forced upon her. Bridgette stopped all of a sudden, turning her olive eyes to Courtney's slightly patient form.

Courtney waited.

Bridgette walked five steps towards her and gave her a hug so tight, Courtney's lungs were smashed together, imploring for some space between them. Her arms were locked together on her sides, squashed by Bridgette's.

"I can't breathe, Bridge!" she gasped out. "Let me go, or else you'll murder me."

Her best friend giggled and pulled away, but her hands were on her shoulders. Her eyes twinkled with happiness, and Courtney smiled at that. Bridgette had been incredibly busy; she looked stressed out, but none too serious than Courtney's state. When Courtney saw how happy Bridgette was, it made Bridgette look even more beautiful. She was liked by many guys back in their high school years and was even voted as "Most Beautiful" among the guys.

There was this exclusive thing the guys in their school did. Courtney was president of the student council in her junior year, and she tried to find out what was going on. One day, she found most of the guys in the school having a secret rendezvous in the backfield. She was about to yell at them when all of a sudden, they started talking about how Bridgette should be voted as "Most Beautiful." Courtney, sensing that it wasn't anything repulsive, let it slide just this once. She truly knew that Bridgette was beautiful inside and out. She admired her for it. It was something Courtney couldn't be even if she tried.

"I am _so _glad, Court—you finally told me. You finally trust me." A smile broke out of Bridgette's face.

"I trusted you ever since. I just didn't know when to tell you; I just wasn't ready. But disregard that now, all right? It's in the past now, and so is my god-awful childhood. I'm over it, and I won't let it haunt me anymore."

"Aw, there's the strong, insane Courtney I know."

Courtney was relieved that Bridgette didn't ask about any details regarding her past. She had a notion that Bridgette didn't want to be nosy and she didn't need to ask, anyway. Besides, Courtney just didn't want to talk about it anymore. It was in the garbage now.

Courtney was aware that there will be people from her past—people she didn't want to see _at all_—who will eventually show up. She will either suddenly bump into them, or they will come for a visit. She hoped for the former, because the latter didn't seem that believable to her. But if either of them ever happened, then she'll have to toughen up, which was easy for her, and confront them. If they didn't want to do anything with her, she'll have to use necessary force and do whatever it takes for some closure. She needed it no matter how tough she appeared to be.

Bridgette sat down next to her, eyes curious. "How did Duncan take it? What did he do? What were his expressions?" she asked all at once.

Courtney drank some more water. "Well…he took it quite well. He actually became all pessimistic towards himself, because he thought that he can't tell his past to me. He was being stupid at that time, which isn't surprising. But for him to suddenly be in the negative side of things, it was shocking. I got mad at him for that. But he was fine with it, my past. Though about my father calling me a 'bitch,' he got furious," she said conversationally.

"Huh."

Courtney raised an eyebrow at her. "What's with that 'huh'? I sense hidden implications underneath that 'huh.'"

The blonde laughed, waving it off with her hand. "It's nothing." Her eyes turned gentle, but that annoying knowing look was mixed with it. "Duncan's a great friend to you, Courtney. I can tell that he cares about you. I'm glad I met him. He's a nice guy. His girlfriend is lucky to have him, right?"

Hesitantly, Courtney nodded at her best friend. She turned her attention to the water bottle she was holding. Her fingers pressed it hard, hearing the crackling sound from the plastic. She felt this feeling again. It was like emotions mixed into this unidentifiable one.

_Am I jealous—of Gwen? Why the hell would I be jealous of Gwen? If I were jealous of her, that would mean that she…she had something that I wanted. Someone that I wanted. Some…one. _

She shook her head abruptly, scaring Bridgette. She couldn't like Duncan. That was implausible for her. That was a revolting thought. Duncan was merely a friend to Courtney, nothing more. She can't like him because of many reasons. _I can't like him! Because one: he's unavailable. He's freaking dating Gwen! And two: he's an ogre, a stupid one! And three__—_

"Courtney," Bridgette whispered, "you always do the right thing. Ever since we were little kids, you always did the right thing. It didn't matter if a lot of people were opposed to it. But you did it. And right now, even if the circumstances are really different, I _guarantee _that you'll do the right thing again. You are set by your own beliefs. You won't care about what other people think. It's you, Court. You."

Courtney smiled weakly at her, chugging down her water to the last drop. Despite her smile, she didn't have any idea on why Bridgette said such a touching speech. It was filled with praise, and Courtney felt flattered. _But why? Why did she say that? What the hell was going on? Was Bridgette under some kind of medication or something?_

Bridgette yawned and told Courtney she was going to take a little nap. As soon as she left, Courtney headed in the kitchen, grabbing another water bottle_. _She sat on the stool, drinking the bottle. Near her were a bowl of fruits, and Courtney helped herself with some green grapes.

This wasn't the end of it all. Just because she let out her dreadful past to her two friends didn't mean that she was finally going to relax. She still needed to help Duncan. He may seem all right now, but that was because he forgot about his problems for a short time. He pushed it to the side of her. _For her. _Courtney thought it was sweet, but she felt a bit guilty. She was being a burden; she was depending on him too much.

Now it's her turn to help.

Her cellphone vibrated in her pocket. Plopping one grape in her mouth, she answered the phone: "Yeah, Duncan?"

His tone was irritable. "Why the _fuck _did you not call me?" he growled.

"Call you? For what?"

"Don't act all innocent, Princess. I went to the hospital earlier to see you, and I had to find out from that ugly doctor that you were released. I had to _talk to that damn doctor_! If you called me, saying that you are out, then I wouldn't have to talk with that dude! Thanks a lot, _sweetheart_." Sarcasm was obviously detected.

Courtney wanted to call him, but she decided to call Bridgette. She didn't want to seem too dependent on him. And besides, if she called him, Gwen would know. Gwen may seem like an all right, not easily jealous type of person, but even she can get a bit irked by the fact that her boyfriend's best friend was always dependent on him. It just didn't seem rational apparently.

"Well, I thought you were busy, so I called Bridgette instead. Why do you sound so enraged, Duncan? This isn't something to be totally blown off about, you know."

"That's because you made me talk to the doctor!" he yelled. "Dude, Courtney, that Conway freak was too happy. Scared the hell outta me, that's for sure."

"Ugh, you didn't have to talk to him. You could've talked to a nurse."

"Yeah, but they're less informative." He sighed. "So how are you? What did your doc say?"

She grabbed another grape, observing it. "I fainted. I'm too stressed out, and I need to vent out my anger more properly. I have to drink lots of water and have some painkillers for my headaches—which are gone now. Thank goodness. I need to have a good night's sleep. Other than that, I'm fine. Healthy as a horse," she explained, feeling good. "For the first time, I feel good."

"Do I still have to have sessions with you?" Duncan questioned. "I mean, I haven't had one with you for a long time."

"Of course you do, Duncan. We're not finished yet. Although you seem perfectly fine, you still need to work on some things. Your sister," she added. "You may not want to talk about her, but, in time, you have to. The sooner, the better, you know?"

He groaned. "Yeah, yeah."

Courtney drank some water. "How are you feeling, though, Duncan? Are things going well with Gwen?"

"I'm feeling good, darling. And hell yeah. Gwen and I are actually havin' a good time. It's a fucking miracle. It's like our problems never happened. We're back in high school, feeling young and stress-free. No more worries."

That jealous feeling came back again. "That's…wonderful, Duncan. Embrace it and keep it going. I hope this continues." She had difficulty swallowing the chewed-up grape in her mouth.

He chuckled on the other line. "Thanks, Princess. All thanks to you," he said.

"No. That was all you, Duncan. I'm just there by your side, but you're the one doing all the hard work for yourself. I'm—I'm proud of you. I'm sure Gwen's even more proud of you. You're improving." She was actually complimenting him. Full out complimenting him.

"Damn, babe. You're praising me. It feels weird, but, uh, thanks." He cursed all of a sudden. "Sorry, Princess. I gotta go now. Gwen is yelling at me for taking so long in the bathroom. I'm late for work."

The water in Courtney's mouth spewed out. "What?! You're in the bathroom?! Are you showering or bathing right now?! You're showering or bathing while you're _on the phone with me_?!" she shouted out, feeling slightly embarrassed.

He laughed. "Hold on there, sweetie. I'm not showering yet." He paused. "But I _am _naked." She could picture the playful smirk on his mouth.

Courtney felt this warm feeling throughout her body. She squirmed a little when he said he was naked. "That's—that's—that's disgusting! Revolting! Ew, you obnoxious swine! I didn't need to know that, you know!" A splatter of red rose on her cheeks.

"Uh-huh, keep saying that. I'm gonna go now, all right? Don't let your imagination run too wild at the thought of _me naked_. Are you squirmin'?" He laughed again; it was louder. "Bye, sexy."

A dial tone was heard.

Courtney hung up her phone, staring at it with shock written on her face. Disgust, shock, irritation, and…pleasure ran through her body. She was actually fantasizing about Duncan's _naked body_! This was a whole new thing for her. She felt like an obsessed high school girl. This wasn't her. Someone was inhabiting her body, making her think such wild thoughts about her friend. The friend that's taken. Happily taken.

Physical attraction was all she ever felt for him—and friendship. She can't like him; it will cause too much drama. She would be in between Duncan and Gwen's tear-filled problems. She was helping Duncan with that, not being a part of it. If she were a part of it, then everything would go downhill. Drama followed Courtney everywhere. She needed repellent for that.

The vision of Duncan's naked body appeared in her messed up mind again.

"I feel like a pervert," she muttered.

* * *

**TBC.**

**[Eh, didn't like this chapter.] **


	12. twelve

Duncan bit into his burger, ignoring whatever his co-worker was talking about. He didn't understand why his co-worker, Parker, would want to talk about work _during break_. This was the only time Duncan and all of his other co-workers could relax and not have to deal with any of the snotty guests. And here's Parker, ruining his break.

Parker was talking about what Duncan's changed schedule was—at least that's what he _thought _Parker was talking about. Apparently their boss had to do some major changes to their schedules. Duncan hoped that it wouldn't ruin his time with Gwen and his sessions with Courtney, which were also quality time with said therapist.

"Hey, Parking Lot," Duncan started, "you're allergic to onions, right?"

Parker stopped what he was saying previously. "Um, yes, I am. Why are you so curious about that? Come to think of it, why do you remember?" he questioned. "You hate me, so why would you even listen and remember?"

"If I hated you, then you would've been dead the day I met you. I prefer the word…'dislike.' So anyway, you still have that pepper spray, right?"

He nodded. "Yes, I do—you need it or something? It's not like you to need something, uh, small like that." His eyes glanced at Duncan's ripped arms.

Duncan smirked. "I didn't say I needed it, stupid. I'm just making sure." He bit into his sandwich, waiting for the wonderful question to be asked.

"Sure…for what?" Parker asked slowly; his tone sounded slightly scared.

"Nothing really, man." His tone, on the other hand, was casual, but his smirk was still placed on his mouth. "Just letting you know if you say another sentence that's work-related during _my break time_, I'll shove my sandwich _full of onions _in your nose and mouth and I'll steal your pepper spray and shove it up your ass, got that? A friendly warning, you could say." His casual tone changed into something menacing at the end.

Parker's eyes widened with apparent fear. The paper he was holding shook because of his trembling hands. Sweat began to form from his forehead. He nervously cleared his throat.

"Dude, that means you leave."

The scared man quickly got off of his seat and ran away, stumbling a bit. He left the door open, and Duncan was too comfortable—translation: too lazy—to go up and close it.

Well, he _did _hate that Parker guy. He always followed the rules, constantly bossed him around—for some reason, Parker seemed to pick on Duncan a lot when the boss was around—and he never, ever stopped talking about work. He was a lot like Courtney except cowardly, weak, and much more annoying. Duncan wouldn't be surprised if they were related.

After work, he would go straight to his session with Courtney. Normally he would go straight to his and Gwen's house, but Gwen would understand and his session was extremely important. Why wouldn't he be ready? Duncan has had a lot of time to think about it. Courtney has been graciously patient, but since she's the most impatient person, besides Duncan himself, she'll snap eventually. She's a damn good therapist but a horrible one at the same time.

"Oh, there's the vending—holy hell," someone muttered from the doorway.

Duncan bit the last remnants of his sandwich and turned to the side, seeing a very familiar face. A grin broke out of his face. "Well, what the fuck—Geoff, the obsessed party man back in high school, also my little partner-in-crime," he announced.

Geoff laughed out loud and went to take a seat near Duncan. He clapped a heavy hand on Duncan's back. "Dude, Duncan, long time, no see! How's it? Any 'girlfriends' I should know about?" he asked slyly. Geoff was very well-known with Duncan's womanizing days back in high school.

"Still with Gwen."

"What? You're still with Gwen, that artsy, gothic girl? I get that she's hot to you, but, dude, you dated her in what, junior year, right? So you've been with Gwen for like—" he started counting to himself—"uh, never mind, but you've been with her for a long time. That's unlike you; you don't like sticking with one girl."

"That's 'cause those other girls I've dated are brain-dead, clingy, and sexually active 24/7," Duncan shot back, slightly smug about his dating roster. "Gwen's just right for me. I don't know if we'll get hitched or whatever, but yeah, I'm dating her still."

"But don't you like girls who are sexually active? Or wait." Geoff snickered. "Don't tell me you're still dating Gwen because she's good in bed. Did she finally have sex with you?"

Duncan got annoyed. "Shut up, man. I don't think of her as a sex toy. And she did have sex with me—after graduation. It was awesome."

"Something tells me that you're not satisfied right now."

He decided to let it all out. Geoff was his best buddy in high school. Duncan finally had a person to talk with about personal guy stuff. Lately, he's been surrounded by girls—that included Parker, the possibly homosexual guy—but it's not like he was complaining. Except for Parker; he had to back off.

"Geoff…you know that I'm not the type of guy to force girls to have sex with me, right?" Geoff nodded, and Duncan continued: "Good, 'cause after we had our first sex together, she told me that she didn't want to continuously have sex—only when we both feel like it. For me, I constantly am in the mood, because it's hard to keep control when you're with your girlfriend, right? But, for her, it's like she doesn't feel a thing. Sure we make out, but that's all. I mean, I knew that I wasn't bad at sex. I'm not—I'm a fucking sex master. But…I don't know; she just doesn't want to do it."

Geoff let out a low whistle. "Whoa, I feel for you, man. I mean, I haven't had any GFs that were like that, but I know what it's like to not get some for a long time. Have you ever tried seducing her? You know…_sprucing _up a little somethin', somethin'?" he suggested mischievously.

A snort was heard. "You know Gwen's not that easy to make mush into. It's hard to seduce her. That's what sucks. I'm not that sex-obsessed, but, Geoff, I _need _a good healthy dose of it once in a while. I'm not asking for it all the time; I'm not that desperate."

Duncan was a guy. He had _needs_, and if those needs weren't fulfilled, then he would go crazy. He wouldn't cheat on her, though. He could wait—but only for a while. He'd have to talk to Gwen about it. That would also explain why he almost had sex with Courtney that other time; he thanked her bellybutton ring for stopping him.

He took a swig of his _Pepsi _can.

"Hey, Duncan," Geoff mumbled, sounding a bit unsure. "Um…you doing okay? Ever since that, uh, incident?"

"I'm coping."

"That's—that's good, I guess." He paused. "I know that you don't want to hear me saying this, but back then, you were in a deep state of depression and you would just hit anyone who would ask if you're okay, like me but not the girls. I can tell that you're all right, but I just wanted to make sure since you're hella good at acting… So yeah, that's good."

Duncan ignored his awkward yet concerned tone. He drank everything in his Pepsi can, crushed it easily, and threw it all the way to the trashcan.

It was weird now. Geoff knew what happened; he knew everything. He was the only one who knew. Duncan told Geoff before Gwen and Duncan became official. He had to let it out—he couldn't just keep it locked inside. Besides, Geoff was his best friend for years. He could trust him. He melted easily under pressure at times, but, with a secret as big as this, he could keep it. But if you entrust him with something that's incredibly important to you, he will lose it.

Geoff cleared his throat. "Uh…well, I'm gonna go now, dude. I have to go and finish packing my stuff," he proclaimed. "I'm on a business trip, anyway, so…see ya, man." He patted Duncan's back gently and left.

Duncan was actually surprised to know that Geoff had been in California; he assumed that he was still living somewhere in Canada. That's why that other day, when he and Gwen had a fight, he went looking for him. But when he called Geoff, Duncan was shocked as hell to find out that he's in California. He felt like a total idiot.

He's an idiot, though, who will finally tell Gwen about his sister. Courtney would understand.

Maybe.

**. . .**

Duncan saw Gwen sitting on their kitchen table, having a somber mixed with anger kind of expression. She was holding a mug between her hands, and she was scowling. When she looked up at him, she glared.

Duncan tried to rack his brain for something that he did. Did he do something wrong—something that hurt Gwen or something stupid? He didn't recall doing anything, so he said the smartest thing in the world:

"Fuck that person who told you whatever; he or she has no proof."

Gwen motioned for him to sit down across from her. He tiredly did so; he was surprised that she didn't get mad at him.

"Someone came over today," she said emotionlessly.

"Like I said, f—"

"Shut up first!" Her manner was frosty, hard. "I—I can't _believe _that you would so something shitty like that, Duncan! Don't you have a brain?! If you don't, what's going on inside that thickheaded skull of yours? Is it all the stupidity, immaturity, and alcohol that inhabits in there? That could be possible now."

Duncan was confused. "Whoa, whoa, _whoa_, honey! What the hell? What's with that outburst? What did I do? You should tell me what I did wrong _and then _scream at me like a banshee. What'd I do?" he questioned loudly.

"You hurt Trent!" Gwen shouted out. "You grabbed his neck and threatened him! Don't you see what assumptions do to people?! To _you _especially?! Why the fuck would you do such an irresponsible and moronic action, Duncan?! _Huh?! _And to think, I actually thought—"

He slammed his palms on the table, standing up. "Gwen, that was a long time ago! I—I was a different person! Courtney was there, but she helped me; she didn't make me beat him up. If it weren't for her, Trent would've been dea—um, beaten up pretty badly. Dude, Gwen, I forgot all about that dang incident. I'm not the same person anymore. You gotta—" He was cut off.

"But you still did it! You didn't tell me! Trent's cousin came over—"

_Oh, fuck—that was _his cousin_? _he thought, feeling like an insane idiot.

"—and she told me everything. I asked her why she told me so late, but it was because she was trying to find out where you and I lived. Trent was with her; he didn't want me to know, but his cousin forced him to come to me. He's not really mad at you… But he should be." She gritted her teeth. "I told you, Duncan—Trent's a…nice guy. You should know that, you know. Nice people don't deserve these things." Duncan couldn't decipher her expression now, but he suddenly got pissed.

"Stop defending him! Look, I'm sorry for threatening him and almost beating the guy up, but you should stop being on his side all the time!"

"I'm taking no one's side, Duncan! I'm just stating the facts, the truth. Why can't you just stop making up your own stories in your head and accept the truth? Trent and I dated once; he was my first love—but that—that was all in the past, all right?! Just accept it. You're my present boyfriend. Just concern yourself with _our _problems. Leave Trent out of it." Gwen sighed and laid her forehead on the table.

_She's right, _he said internally. _I'm being a complete asshole. The truth seems less hurtful than my damn assumptions. But I'm not the one who's going to take all of the blame. I'm not going to make her the victim here._

"Well, since we're going to be talking about _us _now," Duncan said, "I'll just say that you're not doing shit."

She lifted her head up, glowering at him powerfully. Her upper lip curled up slightly. "Don't you fucking tell me that! I sent you to her, that Courtney gal! I talk to her to see how you're doing, but I don't ask too much now since it's confidential!" she defended herself.

"Bullshit, Gwen. _Bullshit. _Ever since you became a jealous bitch 'cause Courtney and I hang out a lot, you never talk to her now. Tell me: what're you doing while I'm doing my sessions with Courtney? Having the time of your life, huh?" He was just so enraged. "Did you think that Courtney was my babysitter so you won't have to deal with me? Or are you saying that _I'm _the problem in this relationship?"

Gwen stayed silent, but she was still glaring at him.

He glared back at her.

One word was said out of her angry lips: "Leave."

"You don't need to tell me twice, _darling_."

Duncan pushed away from the table and stormed out of their apartment. He slammed the door close, and he ran to his car. Profanities were muttered through his lips. He dug through his pocket for his keys and got inside his car, slamming the car door hard. The engine started and quickly, he zipped right out of the parking lot, ready to get away from this place.

Something from the past—and Duncan always thought that events in the past were useless to know about—just immediately destroyed the peace they created. They both were actually getting along; they were actually being the regular couple they used to be, like in high school. Make out sessions happened, but nothing too deep like sex. Then Trent's cousin, along with Trent himself, came and told her what happened in the past. Duncan forgot all about that, the incident that happened.

He swerved the car quickly to the right, almost hitting a van near him. The van honked at him. Duncan opened the window quickly, stuck out his hand, flipping the van driver off. He smirked and closed the window.

Finally, the destination he was heading at came into view. He parked messily in the lot and got out of his car. He walked hurriedly to the door. When he saw Jill chewing some gum, he smirked and went up to her. He wanted to forget about the fight, forget about Gwen.

"Hey, sexy Brit," Duncan purred. "Where's Courtney—busy waiting for me?"

Jill giggled behind her hand. "She's waiting; you're really late, you know," she informed him, smiling softly. "Go on up now before she starts her temper tantrums."

Duncan laughed out loud and headed up the stairs. He heard keyboards clacking in the other room. That was Miranda. He opened the door to Courtney's office and stretched his arms, groaning out loud. He closed the door with his foot.

Courtney was right in front of him. She was leaning on the desk, an ankle crossed over the other, arms crossed over her chest. Unfortunately, she wasn't wearing her usual pencil skirt, but rather, she was wearing black slacks. She looked beyond furious, but she was keeping her cool. That's good—sort of.

"You. Are. Late," she spat. _"You're late, you monkey! You stupid, idiotic—" _She took a few deep breaths, muttering words to herself. "Where were you?"

Duncan grinned at her, taking a few steps closer. "I was with Gwen—" He stopped. Just the memory of Gwen made him mad, annoyed, everything volatile. He just couldn't believe that Gwen would be so ridiculous and temperamental. Always defending Trent, always saying he's a nice guy, always getting mad at Duncan—that was all she did for him. He just didn't know her anymore.

"Duncan?" Courtney's voice called. "Is there something wrong?"

The sound of her voice made Duncan snap his head up towards her. His eyes had a strange hungry glint in them. She was the prey, and he was going to feed. He was hungry; _he wanted her_. He took a couple steps towards her, and when she was close enough, he shot out his arm, grabbing her waist. He pulled her to him, chests meeting.

Courtney's eyes widened. "What the—?!"

His lips slammed against her open ones, and he kissed her roughly, senselessly. He took out all of his emotions on her lips and just kissed her, kissed her, and kissed her. She quickly kissed back, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. His sneaky tongue busted through her mouth, and he grappled with her tongue.

Duncan pulled away from her lips and put his hands on her hips. He picked her up without difficulty and set her down on the empty desk. He picked up the picture frame and carefully threw it on the couch. He took off her jacket and threw it carelessly on the floor. Eager lips met eager lips. Courtney ran her hands through his hair, while Duncan's curious hands roamed around her body.

"D-Duncan," she moaned under his lips.

"Shut up." Despite those two words, he liked the way Courtney moaned out his name.

Duncan resisted the urge to unbutton her shirt. He gripped her hips tightly, trying to restrain himself. Courtney's hands were now feeling Duncan's chest. One hand, though, grabbed his neck from behind and pulled him down more. The kiss was deepened even more. She was aggressive, and Duncan liked that. She didn't hold back; she did what she wanted. He bit her lower lip and began the kissing once again.

He couldn't explain what he was feeling right now as he kissed his therapist, his best friend, the woman he was physically attracted to. His lips molded perfectly with hers. It was amazing, and he just wanted more and more and more. Gwen didn't make him feel like this—ecstasy. He felt hot all over, and he could feel Courtney's skin burning with sexual desire. He knew she wouldn't resist him and this strange attraction distributed between them and only them.

And, just like he wanted, Gwen was forgotten.

* * *

**TBC.**

**[Stupid SAT-10.]  
**


	13. thirteen

The room was heavy with hotness and sweat. Pants were heard through the couple's mouths. Chests heaved up and down fast. They were both on the floor, halfway naked—they were in their underwear. Sweat covered every inch of their skin. Adrenaline pumped through their veins, though they were exhausted. Neither one of them moved a single inch; they were too busy enjoying the emotions running haywire through them and each other's comforting company.

Courtney could smell Duncan's scent. While they had their steamy "bonding," she began to notice how sexy he smelled. He didn't put on any brand of cologne; he merely smelled like he was fresh out of the shower, like the shampoo, soap, conditioner or whatever he used was his own cologne. He smelled…refreshing. It was an inviting smell—the type that you just can never get enough of.

She was feeling pumped up. What she and Duncan did made her all energetic. She couldn't stop, she didn't stop. She enjoyed every minute, every second of it. She threw away all of the consequences out of the door. No, they didn't have sex; Duncan had immediately stopped when they were going to hit that stage. He didn't want to go all the way, and, for some reason, she wanted to. She wanted to have sex with him—but that was wrong. Truly, utterly, deniably wrong. She couldn't. He couldn't. It would ruin _everything_. Reluctantly, she had agreed.

"Hey, Princess," Duncan murmured beside her. "You all right over there?"

Courtney took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm good," she replied.

"It's not that I don't think you're unattractive or you're horrible at it; it's just…Gwen." He sighed exasperatedly. "No matter how pissed off I am at her, I can never go low as to have sex with another girl—even if that girl is you. I can't do that to Gwen; I just can't."

"I understand, Duncan. You don't need to explain anymore."

Truth was Courtney felt rejection wash over her when he wanted to stop. He kept talking about this physical attraction both of them have for each other, and she stopped denying it and accepted it. But now, when he stopped, she got confused and slightly irritated. What was the point of making out when you're not going to finish what you started? Now that he explained, though, she understood—sort of.

Why he was even _allowing _this bothered Courtney. Duncan believed that cheating was not necessarily making out and flirting—he thought it was when they hit that stage: sex. Kissing was just a harmless action to him. But that was just _his _credence. Gwen obviously didn't think the same way Duncan did. She may seem all tough, but even she can shed out a few tears. She might be a bit hurt by this. You just never know.

Courtney didn't like the idea of making out with Duncan, but she was being a huge hypocrite now.

"I'm tired," she sighed. "I don't want to get up…"

Duncan groaned and yawned a bit; Courtney yawned too. "Ugh, I second that. I just want to lie down on the ground and just…do that. That was some heavily making out, sweetie. I wasted all of my fucking energy. Your fault—you were too aggressive." He turned his head towards Courtney and showed his signature smirk.

She met his orbs. "Shut up. You were practically manhandling me; I had to use the same strength."

"Can't imagine on what would happen if we had sex—you'd be a monster!" He laughed out loud.

She rolled her eyes at his immaturity. "Shut _up_, Duncan! Your hormones would be running over the place. You'd be a hyper dog all over me—if that ever happened, that is."

"True that, true that—if it happened."

It was very awkward. They were both speaking hypothetically. It was as if they both wanted to have intercourse with each other, but, of course, they couldn't. But Courtney didn't know if Duncan even wanted to; sure he assured her it's not because of her looks or anything, but she just couldn't help but wonder.

"Are you _really _okay? I mean, I feel a weird vibe around you, Princess. I can't have sex with you, and…we just have to be mature about it. So, if you're sort of pissed off at me for it, then I wouldn't blame—"

This time, Courtney got angry. She already understood, but he kept on talking about it. It was done. They weren't going to have sex. She wanted him to shut up about it. Talking about it more will make an upcoming quarrel between the two.

She stood up from the ground, swaying a little because of the sudden vertigo. After she recovered, she found her black slacks and started to put it on quickly and roughly. She could see Duncan getting up, too, finding some of his clothes. His eyes were trained on her, though, gauging her emotions. She could tell he knew she was mad. She ignored his stares and tried to look for her blazer and shirt. Spotting her shirt near the couch, she walked over there and grabbed it. A hand grabbed her arm, pulling her close.

Duncan was looking at her with a concentrated expression. She wasn't looking at him, still clutching her shirt. His right hand gripped her other arm. He pulled her even closer; Courtney could feel his hot breath fanning her face, tempting her, making her squirm. Just the feel of his breath made her shiver. Duncan grabbed her shirt from her tight grip and began putting it on her. She didn't move a single muscle. He buttoned it up slowly, fingers touching her flesh softly, tantalizingly. He was torturing her, making her want to attack him, repeat what they did—except this time there will be…a more _intense _bonding. He left three buttons undone, showing her flawless cleavage.

Duncan put a finger under her chin, and their lips kissed. It wasn't the antagonistic kind of kissing; it was softer, gentler. His lips handled hers with delicate moving as if her lips were flimsy. Time to time, he'd get insubordinate, biting her lower lip once or twice. Then he pulled away, but their lips were still touching, not kissing.

Courtney slowly let her black orbs travel upwards to his orbs. He was staring at her lips still, but he looked like he was absorbed in something important—like he was having an internal battle with himself. His eyes would narrow every now and then. She waited, trying to remain patient. She wanted to know what he was going to do, what he was going to say.

"Fuck it," he finally whispered. He moved his head now, lips slightly brushing her lips, her cheek. His hot breath was now on her right ear.

She waited.

"My sister was in love with a guy who had trust issues—what does that tell you, Courtney?" Then he brushed past her, leaving.

Courtney was frozen from where she was standing. He actually said something so evasive, yet so…clear. He said something about his past, which was about his sister. Now she understood how Duncan's sister's problem was quite similar to Gwen and Duncan's problem at hand.

She thought about it long and hard. _"My sister was in love with a guy who had trust issues"_—Courtney didn't comprehend why he would say that first. Was that why he looked so focused before? That one sentence perplexed her now. What happened afterwards? She needed to know.

But there was something else that was bothering Courtney now.

She gradually dragged her feet towards the couch. She collapsed on it, sighing in relief. She was aching, and she didn't even notice the pain. Either the pain was caused by the floor or Duncan's rough handling. She assumed it was a mix of both—though Duncan's rough handling might be possible. She let her eyes close, trying to relax her overwhelmed mind.

_Are Duncan's trust issues the only reason why Duncan and Gwen are having problems? Or…is there something else?_

**. . .**

Her ballpoint pen wrote notes on the paper almost as fast as the speaker—which was her boss, arch-enemy, Mr. Banks. Courtney tried not to kill him when she saw his face, when she heard his voice. She remained the "loyal" person she was, and she took notes automatically as if she was in high school again. She was astonished to know that her note-taking techniques were still programmed in her hands.

Mr. Banks called them at around five o' clock this morning—his timing was much worse than Lindsay's—just to inform all of his employees that a meeting was about to start in his building. This guy may be one of the brilliant men in Courtney's life, but he was also the by far the most idiotic man as well. Calling people at a terribly early morning for a meeting, which should be scheduled weeks before, wasn't exactly boss-like material. Courtney thought she could do better, be a better boss. She will handle everything flawlessly. She knew she was born to do it.

The meeting consisted of every employee that worked under Mr. Bank. He, as said before, owned practically everything—though that was exaggerating. He owned some lawyer firms, business corporations, et cetera, et cetera. But the main business he owned especially was therapy. He knew many fantastic therapists; he was the boss of some of them. Courtney didn't like it—he was too…too powerful.

"Business has been dragging on slowly but surely. But, people, I want business to be fast!" He snapped his fingers. "As fast as that. There are people who are going to other therapists, therapists who I don't own. I don't like that. These people need to hear the word 'recommendation.' You all know what that means don't you? That means I want all of your clients to leave your office satisfied, relieved. I want them to _suggest _you guys. 'Oh, you should go to this therapist.' I want to _hear _those sentences being said. People, people—money doesn't grow on trees. I need all of you guys to shape up and do your jobs the right way."

A man raised up his hand. "So…what's the point, sir? What do we do?" he asked timidly. "You're not being very clear."

Courtney wanted to know the answer, as well. _It's always about the damn money with this old fool, _she thought bitterly.

Mr. Banks smiled coldly at him. "Mr. Mackenzie…that means you need to do your job _even better_. Heal your clients faster, better! Fast—that's the word I like, the adjective I love," he barked. He caught sight of Courtney. "Courtney, my darling."

_Damn it. _"Yes, Mr. Banks?" she asked politely.

"You didn't receive the 'Youngest Successful Therapist' award for nothing, right? You are an amazing therapist; you do your job amazingly. But, honey, there's always room for improvement. Don't slack off. Don't spend too much time on _one _client." He had this knowing gleam in his eye. "That's not fair for the other clients and for the upcoming clients—if you have some waiting, that is. Fast, fast, fast. Let that be the word of the day for you—for all of you!"

_Oh, shut up, you balding oaf. Therapy takes a large amount of time. Greedy old fucker… _"I understand, but, sir, therapy takes time."

"Darling, do I need to explain the word 'fast'? The faster, the quicker, the better."

There were a lot of protests in the room. People agreed with Courtney, and that didn't surprise her. She hated these people in here; they hated her. But even this was too much. Was that guy really obsessed with money? He had everything he ever wanted in the world—except women who will stay with him for more than a day and warmth in his heart.

Mr. Banks yelled for everyone to be quiet, and they all did. It was a good decision; if you disobeyed him, you will easily get fired by just one movement of his pointer. He was vindictive, psychotic—someone Courtney wanted to overpower. If she was a different person, Courtney would be frightened and would admire him, but no, she hated him so much that cowardice didn't exist in her when she saw his face, heard his cold tone. Courtney loved power, but she wouldn't control people like this to the point of ultimate craziness. She would think logically.

He kept an eye on her. He was always on her case. It angered Courtney all the time. When was he going to make his move? If this was a game, Courtney was ready to bring it. She loved challenges; she would win. She loved winning, and she would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. Mr. Banks brought out a whole new her, someone evil yet for a good purpose. The world needed to be rid of _these _people, like Mr. Banks.

But he was planning something against her. It was something that could possibly ruin her life. She knew. She wasn't stupid, wasn't oblivious. He gave out hints. He wanted her to know. She felt like an idiot for not focusing on him. Her focus was all on Duncan, her client.

"Let me remind all of you again: no close relationships with the clients. You shall not give any special treatment. Treat all of your patients the same yet differently. You know what I mean. This is forbidden, for it will cause many altercations, drama, and…conflict," Mr. Banks informed everyone; he looked at Courtney once in a while.

Someone inquired, "Sir, we know this. Why the sudden need of reminding?"

His eyes traveled over to Courtney, who was conspicuously glaring icily at him. "People just don't know how to follow rules is all."

And just like that, the game grew even more serious.

**. . .**

"I need a new job—part-time," Bridgette complained on the other end of the phone. "I got fired from the candy store I was working part time in, because apparently I give out too much discounts to little children. It's so hard to say no when they stare at you with those…those innocent, adorable eyes! Can you blame a girl who's a softie at heart?"

Courtney was managing the clients' schedules on her clipboard. "But," she replied, "they might be using that I'm-so-innocent-pity-me expression to manipulate you. They might be lying. Children nowadays are ruthless, corrupted. This generation is scary and…unpredictable."

"Well, you always look on the serious, negative side of things. Come to the happy-go-lucky, positive side—we have candy!" She paused. "Not anymore, though…"

Courtney grimaced when she saw that she was going to have a session with Lindsay a few days from now. She was, by far, the worse client ever—and that was saying something considering the fact that Duncan's hard to handle.

Lindsay's problem was with her boyfriend. Apparently he didn't spend much time with her, and he always zoned out—that's what she said, anyway. At times, he would say another girl's name while they had sex together or when they're making out…which was too much information for Courtney, but she had to know it no matter how disgusting that sounded.

"I'll find something for you," Courtney promised.

"No, that's okay. You're busy, and I don't want to put too much time on your hands. I don't want to repeat that incident…" She trailed off. "Uh, but anyways! I'll just ask for more hours at the shack. I'll probably ask if I can go full-time now."

"All right, all right."

"'Kay, gotta go now! Bye, Court! Love you!"

"Yeah, bye, Bridgette. Um…uh, love you, too."

Courtney felt uneasy just saying those strong words. "I love you." She wasn't used to the words, because, after her mother died, her father never once said that to her. And since her mother died when Courtney was at a young age, it was hard for her to remember if her father ever even said those words. Courtney herself never said those words to anybody else—at least…that's what she thought.

From all of the romance movies she had once watched, couples there always said "I love you" to each other. Other times they didn't know when to say it or how to say it or if they should say it—which annoyed her. _"Oh, my gosh, just say it! They're just words!" _was what she would always say whenever she watched it. She didn't understand the importance of those words.

_It's not like…I'll ever say those words to a guy, _she thought, biting her ballpoint pen from the top.

Duncan's face appeared in her mind.

Courtney slammed her forehead on the desk, groaning to herself. Ever since she and Duncan had their "almost sex," she never stopped thinking about him. Luckily, she didn't blurt out that she almost had sex with Duncan to Bridgette. Said blonde wouldn't stop talking about it if Courtney ever told her. It was like every second his smirking face popped up into her mind. It ruined her, because it made her lose focus in school and work. He even invaded her mind while she slept. She had a…slightly inappropriate dream about him, but it wasn't like it was going to come true. And it's not like she liked it.

Even if the dream showed his shirtless body.

"Die, you damn brain. You shall die for giving me such—"

"Talking to yourself _again_, Princess?"

A tense hand gripped the ballpoint pen harder. Knuckles popped out of her hands. She didn't know whether she was feeling angry or uneasy, but either way, she hated feeling like this. She felt lost now; she felt…unorganized.

Duncan chuckled and walked over to her. He put his hands in his front pockets and stood in front of her while she sat behind her desk.

Her desk—it was the only thing between her and Duncan. If that desk wasn't there, then there wouldn't be any object between them. Sure there would be some space between them, but then if Duncan moved even closer and put his hands on her hips, leaning down, then…he will—

_RATED R! RATED NC-17!_ her mind screamed.

"Shit…," Courtney moaned.

Duncan stared at her for a while. He walked around the desk and grabbed her hands. He pulled her up until she was standing. He pushed her to the side, making her stomach hit the edge of her desk. He sat down on her chair. Before she was about to yell at him and hit him, his arms snaked its way around her stomach, making her sit on his lap. He grabbed her arms again and put them around his neck securely. Then, he put his arms around her yet again snugly.

_Wow, _she thought. _That was…random. But this is comfortable…_

"Like it, darling?" he whispered in her ear hoarsely.

Courtney nodded slowly. "Strangely…it feels comfortable. I feel warm," she muttered. "I—I like this…"

She, again, couldn't figure out what his expression was. He looked away from her, resting his chin on her right shoulder. His eyes looked downcast, and his eyebrows were pulled down a bit. She wished he would tell her what's wrong. She wanted to help him…but lately, he had been distant. She didn't seem him much now—except for this time. There was something bothering him.

She moved her hand over the one resting on her thigh, and she interlocked her fingers with his gently. His fingers didn't move, though. But when Courtney was about to let go, he unhurriedly laced his fingers with hers. He squeezed her hand a bit and kissed her neck carefully.

"You can tell me anything, you know," she said softly.

"I know."

The moment was ruined by the sound of a cell phone vibrating out loud. Duncan sighed out loud and, unhappily for Courtney, he took out his hand from hers and got his cell phone from his pocket. He read the message on it, and then he cussed loudly. He put his hands on her waist and set her down on the ground. He stood up and started walking to the door.

"Gotta go, Princess," Duncan informed her. "A crazy bud of mine asked me to follow him somewhere. I'll see you at our session tomorrow."

She didn't want him to go. She didn't want him to leave with that expression on his face. She wanted him to stay with her. She didn't care if she felt selfish right now or if she felt incredibly childish. She just wanted him wrap his warm arms around her again.

Her hand grabbed his wrist.

Duncan halted and whipped his head towards her. "What the—?" he mumbled.

Courtney put her hands on both sides of his cheeks and planted her lips on his slightly opened ones. He kissed back happily, and she liked that. At least he was responding. Before she was about to get too into it and tongues would clash, she let go. Tentatively, she looked up.

He was smirking at her. He ruffled her hair and left, giving a small wave. The door closed with a slight shut.

Courtney smiled to herself and walked to her desk. She sat down comfily and began working on her clients' session schedules.

Then her forehead slammed on the desk again.

_What the fucking hell was that, Courtney?! You acted like a total…kiss freak! Jeez, it's not like you'll see him four years from now! Ugh, you're pathetic! You're not even fucking dating that baboon! Idiot, idiot, idiot! It's like I like him or something! I can't like him! I can't!_

Sighing, she lifted her head up. Her mind was in swirls, just going everywhere and anywhere. She swiveled around from her chair and looked out the huge window. Cars passed by, people walked by, and clouds drifted by. It was unfair on how the world can be so relaxed and she can't.

His face appeared.

_I…like…Duncan…_

_

* * *

_**[Sorry it's going on slowly.**

**Man, I'm graduating soon—can you believe that?**

**Ugh.]**


	14. fourteen

There was something wrong with Duncan.

For a while, Courtney's face couldn't stop appearing in his head. Ever since they had their extremely intense making out—which, in teenager terms, was called semi "third" and "second base"—her face just popped out of nowhere. He knew that if you think somebody's super attractive, they, at times, sneaked its way in your mind without your permission. It happened to him once—but this was too constant.

He had been imagining her in lacy clothing, or sometimes even in no clothing at all. He had only seen her in her underwear—which he never stopped thinking about, as well.

Her body was simply remarkable. Her skin was lusciously dark and soft, no blemishes spotted. She had a curvilinear body, but he knew that ever since. His hands couldn't stop touching her stomach and everything else. She had toned long legs. Everything about her was…hot, _sexy_. Courtney Neville was the personification of sexiness. She was a goddess to him.

It was too bad her personality didn't match her looks.

Duncan knew that Courtney liked him. That day in her office was full proof. No way will you not spot the longing and care in her eyes when he was about to leave. Sometimes she was too easy to read, but that was a good advantage for him. Actions spoke louder than words. Her hands…they just didn't stop touching him. She was too noticeable. If she was trying to conceal it, then it wasn't working at all.

"Hey, Duncan," Geoff called, barging in the guest room Duncan was currently dwelling in for a while. "Wanna do something today? I am bored as hell."

Duncan rolled over to the side, not facing his friend. "Leave me alone, Geoff. I need some time to relax and think—something I haven't done for a while. Go find a freak to play with," he replied. "Or better yet, why don't you start working. Isn't that the reason why you're here? Because of _work_?"

"Yeah, but…I'm too lazy. 'Sides, I have tons of time to do that shit. I just want to do something awesome, you know? Let's have some male bonding time."

"Dude, we did that yesterday and the day before that. Give me some time to breathe. Find another person to bug. I need some Duncan time."

Geoff remained consistent. He tried persuading him by saying he'll be the one spending all the money, and if Duncan wanted anything, he'd buy it. The money persuasion didn't work, so then he tried the guilt act. The ex-delinquent didn't budge at all.

After many failed attempts, Geoff finally left Duncan.

Duncan lied down on his stomach, burying his face in the soft pillows. He knew the answer to his problems, but he didn't want that answer to be the answer, because that answer would ruin everything. And right now, he just wasn't too sure if that answer was _the_ answer. He was confusing himself now.

So Courtney liked him. Duncan liked Courtney. The facts seemed to be too simple, too easy; Duncan wished it was just that. He wished it was just those two names: "Duncan, Courtney." But…there was another name he had to add in. It just made the situation even more difficult, even more stressful. Stress didn't clash well with his personality.

Gwen.

Gwen.

Gwen.

The name disturbed him persistently. Courtney filled his mind; Gwen filled his mind. Both were important to him incredibly. He liked Courtney but loved Gwen. Or did he love Gwen? Or did he like Courtney?

Duncan wanted to spend some male time with Geoff even if the idea sounded a bit nasty to him. He didn't like calling it "male bonding time." It was like a date to Duncan.

But if he spent time with Geoff, he wouldn't have time to answer everything—although he knew the answer already. The answer, him officially liking Courtney, wasn't a bright answer if he thought about Gwen.

A headache started to form.

He quickly jumped off the bed.

"Hey, Geoff!"

**. . .**

The smell of smoke and alcohol embraced Duncan's nostrils. Waitresses in skimpy outfits passed by, holding a tray of beer bottles. A guy up on stage was playing the keyboard, singing depressed songs.

It had been almost a year since Duncan went inside a bar. The last time he went to one was during his co-worker's birthday. It wasn't all that memorable or entertaining. He didn't really know the guy, but he went for the free drinks. Gwen wasn't fond of bars all that much, so he didn't get to some bars with her during the time they were happily together.

He and Geoff sat on the bar stools. Geoff ordered a beer for the both of them, grinning at the female bartender.

"I thought you have a girlfriend, Geoff?" Duncan asked, eyeing the bartender.

Geoff snorted. "No, I don't. I haven't had the time to find one or even date. My time in Canada is both work and vacation. I'm single and loving it." He stared at Duncan curiously. "Where's Gwen, by the way? I haven't seen her around. You still not talking to her?"

"Why the hell am I still staying at your place then?"

Geoff didn't say anything after that. He smiled again when the bartender came back with their drinks. She was smiling sexily at him, bending down to give a clear view of her cleavage. Duncan raised an eyebrow at that, but he didn't comment on it. The girl was trying too hard; it made him want to gag.

He took a quick swig of his beer. The girl left, saying "Call me" to Geoff.

"That girl is fucking stupid, Geoff. Don't waste your time with that freak," Duncan informed him conversationally.

"Dude, what do you mean? Her eyes were practically sexing me! She's hot, too."

"Then why did she say 'Call me' when she didn't even give you her number?"

Duncan chuckled when he saw the sad look appear on his best friend's face. He chugged down his beer, relishing the taste. He hadn't drunk beer in a long time, and it helped him clear his mind. He didn't care if this killed his brain cells; he was out of school already. And anyways, even if he _was _still in school—which was a scary vision for Duncan—he still wouldn't give a crap.

He looked over to the stage, smirking when the depressed musician was booed off the stage. As soon as he got off, another guy went up, carrying a guitar case. Duncan's eyes widened.

_Trent?_

Trent grabbed the microphone stand closer to him and adjusted it so the microphone was positioned correctly in front of his mouth. He cleared his throat, the sound echoing throughout the building, and grinned. He took his guitar out of the case and put the guitar strap around his left shoulder. He strummed once.

Duncan kept staring at him. He was still irritated with him, but he didn't want to start anything. There were too much people, and he definitely didn't want to start another scene. He wasn't that kind of person anymore, and he was established enough. But he was curious to see and hear how he played and sang.

"Is that Trent?" Geoff muttered to Duncan. "He still plays?"

Duncan nodded. "Yeah."

"Wow, that's—whoa, dude…"

"What?"

"Um, looks like your GF's here, too." He pointed to the table Gwen was sitting at. She was sitting in the corner, but she was really close to the stage. She was staring at Trent, smiling warmly.

Duncan felt lost. Was he supposed to march right up to Gwen and demand to know why she was here? He didn't want to assume that she was here to watch Trent perform. No harm in that, right? They were still friends, and Duncan couldn't demolish that. He couldn't lay a single finger on their special relationship. And anyways, he was furious with her. He didn't want to talk to her right now.

He stayed in place.

Geoff nudged his shoulder hard. "Duncan, aren't you going to do something about that?" he whispered.

Beer filled his throat even more. "Why? They're not having sex in front of me. It's all good," Duncan answered nonchalantly.

"Whatever you say, man."

Duncan believed that Gwen wouldn't do such a thing to him. She wasn't the careless type. Even though Duncan almost had sex with Courtney, he didn't. He thought of Gwen—because he loved her. And since he loved her, he definitely believed in her. He trusted her. Yes, he was still quite furious with her, but couples fought, didn't they? Every couple had their ups and downs. No couple was perfect—and Duncan's relationship with Gwen proved that.

He really wanted to tell Gwen about his past. He felt ready. Telling Courtney first probably would've affected Gwen a bit regardless of the fact that Courtney was his therapist and his best friend. His girlfriend came first to him. He may have small feelings for Courtney, but no matter what he will always love Gwen.

Or so he thought.

Courtney held a special place in his heart—a place that not even Gwen could reach. She could confide with him easily; she could converse with him easily. Ignoring their obvious differences, they had a lot in common. They suffered in the past. They were independent; they knew how to take care of themselves. He cared about her a whole lot, and he will never stop feeling grateful towards her and what she did for him. But…even similarities won't get in the way of Duncan's love for Gwen.

Or so he thought.

Trent started singing to the microphone. Duncan didn't hear who the song was dedicated to, but he didn't care right now. The song he was singing currently was slightly soothing to him. He didn't recognize the song, so he assumed it was another one of Trent's original compositions.

Although he disliked Trent, he had to give him props. He was an amazing musician and songwriter. He had a feeling that the words came from the heart. It made him feel a bit suspicious, though. Trent's songs always—_always_—came from experience and from the heart. They always meant something. Of course most songs had meaning underneath the words, but Trent's songs were more…deep.

It was okay to have suspicions. There was no harm in thinking in the negative side _at times_. Thinking of the consequences was rational. It wasn't horrible; it wasn't wrong. Duncan couldn't always think on the good side of things. That would show naivety and cowardice.

So, with that being said, it wasn't wrong to think that Trent still had feelings for Gwen—and vice versa.

Trent was Gwen's first love during high school. Duncan didn't even like Gwen during their early years of high school. He knew her, but he wasn't once attracted to her—not a tiny smidge. He wasn't particularly close with her, but they were friends. They knew each other in middle school, but that was all. He knew Trent; they had a couple of classes together.

When Trent left to go take care of his sick grandmother during junior year, it started. Gwen had been feeling down, and Duncan was there to cheer her up. Since Trent wasn't around now, he got close with her. They eventually became close friends. Duncan started to have feelings for her. At the end of junior year, they became an official couple.

But Duncan knew that even though Gwen loved him, she would always love Trent.

He just hoped Gwen loved him slightly more than Elvis.

Duncan suddenly noticed that Trent was done with his performance. He had a good applause from the audience. Trent grinned politely and bowed down. He put his guitar in its case and walked down the steps, towards Gwen—who was smiling so happily at him.

His teal eyes watched them intently.

Gwen was most likely praising him about his guitar-playing talents while Trent was being the modest guy he was. She gave him a hug to which Duncan narrowed his eyes at. They both sat down on the secluded table, talking amongst each other.

Duncan suspected nothing wrong. They were just old friends catching up, having a nice, fun time together. He couldn't stop them from doing something as harmless as that. Gwen wasn't cheating on him, and it should stay like that. They may still love each other, but they were over now. Gwen was Duncan's. He wanted it to stay like that.

Geoff looked at what Duncan was looking at. "So…you're not going to do anything about that?" he inquired, drinking his beer bottle. "They seem _pretty _cozy there."

He rolled his eyes at him. "That's what you think, but Gwen's not like that. She won't cheat on me just like I won't cheat on her. They're just friends, dude."

It was established. Gwen wasn't cheating on Duncan. She loved him; he loved her.

Or so he thought.

**. . .**

"I want to talk to you."

Duncan whipped his head towards Geoff, an eyebrow rising up. Geoff held up his hands, shrugging.

The girl, Trent's cousin, continued to stare at them. She was waiting patiently. Her high pigtails were swaying with the wind from outside.

"Uh, sure… Come in." Duncan held the door open for her. She walked in slowly, looking around the rented apartment.

When Duncan closed the door and faced Geoff, Geoff mouthed, "She's hot!" Duncan rolled his eyes and pushed him out of the way. He headed towards the couch where the girl was sitting on. He looked back and saw that Geoff left to give them both some privacy. He looked at the girl.

Her legs were crossed, and she had a calm yet serious expression planted on her face. Her green eyes were focused on the round carpet on the floor where a small, black table was on. Slowly, she trained her soft eyes on Duncan.

"I'm Sage, Trent's cousin," she began, "and I'm sorry for just suddenly popping in."

Duncan rubbed the nape of his neck. "It's all right, I guess."

She nodded once. "Well…I just wanted to talk to you about that incident a while back. Before you start to say anything, I want you to hear me out first. Is that all right, Duncan?"

"Yeah."

"I don't like you—not after what you did to Trent. It wasn't fair to him or to Gwen. I know I'm meddling into you guys' business, but when my cousin gets hurt, I step in the line. No one hurts Trent. And whatever you think he's doing right now, well, you better think again. You don't know him like I do. I would appreciate it if you didn't repeat that incident again. That's all I have to say." No coldness was laced with her tone. She was just being a caring, slightly overprotective cousin.

He let out a deep breath. "I understand what you're saying, Sage. But even though you're like a protector to Trent, you still shouldn't be in our business. People act differently to different people. That's how life is, darling. We'll see how everything goes first, and _then _we'll make the correct assumptions."

Her lips pursed. "Fine. I don't know what happened; I don't want to know what happened. But, Duncan, stop assuming things. I know Trent. He's a nice guy, and he wouldn't do…whatever you're thinking of." She stood up, straightening her mini skirt. "Thanks for clearing in some time to talk to me. It's short and sudden, but I needed to do that."

He stood up, too. "Yeah… Well, see ya."

She smiled and walked to the door. Geoff ran out of the kitchen abruptly, opening the door for her. He bowed childishly, grinning at her. Sage giggled and went outside.

Duncan sighed tiredly and went to the guest bedroom. As soon as he walked inside, he jumped on the bed, groaning out loud.

_Sage is right, _he thought. _I shouldn't be assuming things a lot. Trent is a nice person; he hadn't done anything shitty to me before. Fuck, man… I _am _the one causing all the problems. Damn my assuming. Gosh, I need to talk to Courtney. She'll know what to do. Luckily my session with her is tomorrow._

As soon as he thought of Courtney, he felt himself smile.

It was wrong to think about how much he liked that crazy therapist. But it was only him and his brain now. His brain could keep a secret.

Duncan Taylor liked Courtney Neville. The sentence had a nice ring to it, and it felt so easy to think and say—if there wasn't another person. Duncan hadn't met a person like her, someone that was so…psycho and hot. She was just an all right girl to hang out with and tease. She made it so easy for Duncan when it came to his constant teasing. He also loved the fact that she was a strong girl. It was hard to find a physically and mentally strong girl nowadays.

He felt horrible for noticing how much Courtney had done for him in the past just now. He was aware about it, but he didn't give much thought towards it. She went further than what she was supposed to do, just to help him. It was just mind-blowing, and he knew that no one could go beyond what she did for him.

Maybe he should tell her about his past first. It wasn't about planning to tell her, that he knew. Sometimes, you told that person unconsciously or if you _completely knew _that it was definitely the right time, the right place, the right feeling. You might need a little push like what Courtney needed. She was ready, because after she told him, she looked relieved and a bit joyful.

But Duncan was going to stay with Gwen. If Courtney ever confessed to him—which he doubted—he would have to hands down reject her and discuss with her about it. It would hurt her and him, but they'd get over it. Their feelings for each other weren't anything major, important. Dating Courtney would've been nice—but he shouldn't fantasize something that was too impossible. Besides, it would be against those damn rules and regulations in her job.

He got up and headed towards the small window nearby. He grabbed the window pane and slid it up, breathing in the fresh air. He laid his arms on the sill and leaned down, watching people walk by the apartment building. He perceived that it was a nice, calm day. That was rare.

Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of something shocking.

Duncan saw two people who vaguely looked like Trent and Gwen. The couple immediately went inside the building too soon for Duncan.

He walked to his bed, feeling dazed as hell. He collapsed on the bed head first.

_That couldn't be Trent and Gwen. They're just friends. What I saw was a couple holding hands. Trent and Gwen isn't a couple; they're old friends. Gwen—Gwen would _never, ever _do that to me, because I wouldn't do that with Courtney. Damn this shit, dude…, _he thought. His thoughts were all jumbled up now. _Gwen… She wouldn't do that to me._

He yawned. His eyelids started to close slowly.

_I hope…_

He fell asleep.

* * *

**TBC.**

**[Tomorrow: Summer Break.**

**Gonna miss my close friends...**

**D;]**


	15. fifteen

Courtney tapped her finger on the desk repeatedly, staring at the TV screen tiredly. Actually, she wasn't even _really _staring; she was just looking, but she was thinking about something important. She was not focused. A certain idiot had been running around in her mind.

_It's absolutely implausible for me to like Duncan, _she thought. _"I like Duncan"—what a foolish supposition! I must have been so lethargic that I thought such ridiculous thoughts! He's madly in love with Gwen, and it should stay that way. All those sessions with him would be a waste if I ever liked Duncan in such a way—which is, as stated before, implausible. How—how—how idiotic of me to think such a—ugh!_

She tried to listen to what the narrator in the TV was saying. It was necessary for her to listen, because if she didn't, she would fail the upcoming test her professor will be giving tomorrow. It was only her first year in college. She didn't want to take the full course of college, though. She already achieved her goal, but she still wanted to learn in case something comes up.

But she kept getting distracted.

Courtney knew she wasn't in denial. She was in touch with her inner self and her feelings. She knew how she thought. This was her mindset; she would know. If she didn't know how she thought, it would incredibly stupid. Who wouldn't know how their mind worked? It was official, anyway—she didn't like Duncan.

If Duncan liked her back—it could be possible, but you would only think that if you didn't know him well, Courtney guessed—that would probably cause more conflicts surrounding the trio: Gwen, Duncan, and Courtney. It was good that he didn't like her _that_ way, though.

The lights turned on, brightening up the room. Courtney squinted; her eyes were too acclimated to the dark room.

"You see how he easily destroyed her resolve, everyone?" Courtney's psychology professor, Mrs. Marquez, said loudly. "Words are a powerful source of weapon. 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.' That quote is…useless—but that opinion of mine would only account if a person's state of mind was vulnerable. It's easy to break a person's mind with the right words, people."

_That's functional, _Courtney mused internally. _I should practice that… It'd be good since I'm a therapist. _

She rose up her hand.

Mrs. Marquez looked at her. "Yes, Miss Neville?"

"Words can easily break a person's mind, right? With the right tactics?"

"Yes. Your point, please?"

"Well…I just wanted to know if words can…_enter _a person's mind or _make _a person do something. It could possibly be related to the term 'hypnosis.'"

She stared at her for a while. "Are you talking about 'persuasion'?"

"No, no. Something different. Persuasion is too…inferior of a word, too immature. I meant for something more productive or something more professional."

"You mean something useful for your job?"

For some reason, Courtney felt embarrassed right now. She didn't want to look like she was going to use tactics that are probably too underhanded just to go out the easy way for her job.

"I guess it would be resourceful for my job, but I was also thinking for life experiences. I'm just speaking hypothetically, Mrs. Marquez. Curiosity, you know?" She nervously giggled.

Mrs. Marquez smiled a bit. "I understand, Miss Neville. You can use words to try and work with that person's mind. In some movies, the villains portray as mad scientists—though some control your mind through impossible techniques such as 'hypnosis'; to add onto that, some movies are more alluring, starring sultry women. Succubus," she explained.

At the mention of the word "succubus," Courtney's eyebrows furrowed. The word brought too many memories of certain people.

"The latter uses the technique 'persuasion.' But all of those movies are fictional, which means those techniques could be unhelpful. Persuasion is commonly used by many people, though—even by real succubus. Yes, I believe that you can control or enter a person's mind with words. But that's dangerous and…incredibly psychotic—unless it's for the right reasons. It can be helpful for your job as a therapist, Miss Neville, but I advise you ask permission by someone of authority. I don't even know if it's allowed."

Courtney smiled at her professor. "Mrs. Marquez, it was just a harmless inquiry. Mere curiosity, like I said. This information may be productive in the future, but I will use it in a minor way. You need not worry," she assured. "Thank you."

The professor continued on with her lecture.

_Maybe I could use that technique with difficult clients like Duncan. But would that mean I'm too…desperate? Therapy takes time—though doing this may or may not make therapy go faster. This could be a new example I'm showing for upcoming therapists. I could bring a whole new technique, making therapy much more…safer and easier. Oh! I could be promoted. Not by Mr. Banks, but by someone of higher status! Brilliant, Courtney!_

She had a sudden epiphany.

_What if Mr. Banks knows of this technique? He's a diabolical man. You can just tell—if you're observant and intelligent enough. Oh, what am I thinking? I'm so obsessed with that man; it's eerie. This game he's playing—it's driving me nuts. I can't focus well… I have so much to deal with, but I have to handle them one by one. I can't afford any more trips to the hospital._

Courtney groaned quietly to herself. She gathered her books together and held them against her chest securely. She walked down the steps and left the classroom, droning out her professor's lecture as she walked on.

This was all too bewildering and mind aching for her. She didn't know which to focus on first—Duncan or Mr. Banks? If you thought about it more, her problem with Duncan was very minor in contrast to the problem with Mr. Banks. Anyway, she confirmed that she didn't like Duncan in such a way… But she still had to work with his issues in therapy.

Duncan had a fight with Gwen. Courtney didn't know if they made up or not. It had been a long time since she contacted Duncan or even met up with him. They didn't have a chance to discuss sessions together. She'll just have to hope he calls her soon. It was his choice, of course.

As she thought of Mr. Banks, she wondered what he was planning to do. No doubt it involved something about her jobs and her clients. That day of the party, when she received her award, he immediately told her that he knew Duncan was lying. Did that also include Duncan not being her boyfriend? If he continued touching her inappropriately and she _tried _to enjoy it, Mr. Banks wouldn't be too suspicious of them.

Mr. Banks was a smart man. He bragged about his intelligence, but it was not like those bragging words of his were just empty words. He knew how to plan things well except for phone calls since his timing was horrible. Courtney didn't really know how his mind worked; it would be hard to even find out.

_Mr. Banks reminds me of a ruthless villain…, _Courtney thought, scowling deeply. _What does that make me, though?_

**. . .**

Her hand tried to keep up with Lindsay's fast babbling.

"…night, I tried to, like, show him my curves. I wanted to show him if my body was good enough since he's been rejecting all of my suggestions to have sex. I mean, look at me—I'm hot!" she was saying, pouting. "I know this may look like some kind of minor thingy, but he's been acting really weird. We've been together for almost two years now, and all of a sudden, he's like a—a—a _zombie_!"

Courtney was slightly astonished—no, she was _really, really _astonished. Lindsay was actually acting like a normal girlfriend, _a normal human being_! Her speech seemed to have improved. This situation of hers must be very problematic. Lindsay must love this man a lot.

"Lindsay, there's a question that's been bothering me for a while," Courtney began.

The blonde tilted her head to the side a bit. "What is it?"

"You seem to love your boyfriend a lot, right? If so, why did you go to that convention for therapists with Mr. Banks? How do you know him? You remember that convention/party _and _Mr. Banks, don't you?" She had to make sure in case Lindsay forgot.

"Oh! Yes, I remember. That was a fun party, wasn't it? And I went with—his name was Mr. Banks? O-M-G, I thought his name was something with 'money'!" Lindsay giggled.

_Huh. I see that she only gets serious and normal when the situation at hand is serious and normal. This idiot is hard to handle… _"Please answer the question, Lindsay."

She tapped her chin, pursing her lips. "Well…I was shopping for some _Chanel _shades and stuff at this totally extravagant place when he just came up to me. He was really nice, and he wanted to be friends. There were big guys beside him, but he told me not to be scared of them. He mentioned something about this party he was going to and that he wanted someone to go with since he was going to be very alone."

_Smart. He got to know Lindsay to find out how…her mind works. Damn, his perception is high. He used the right words to persuade her possibly._

"I didn't want to go with a stranger at first, but he convinced me enough. So…that's how it started with everything. Mr. Banks was really sweet to me! But then, at the end of the party, he started touching me in an icky way, and I hated him after that. He was such a pervert!" Lindsay crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. "I didn't want Tyler to be disappointed in me."

"Tyler?"

"My boyfriend."

_Ugh, his perceptiveness… But Lindsay is an easy person to influence, so I shouldn't be making assumptions about him. _Courtney tapped the pen on the clipboard. _Tyler… That name sounds familiar. But then again, Tyler is a common name._

"So, what should I do about him, Courtney?"

"Huh? Oh. Yes, yes… You should try and interact with him more. You said you lived with him, so when he comes back from work, you should try. Relationships need a lot of communication or else everything will just collapse. Do this quickly, Lindsay. It's up to you or him—but if Tyler doesn't do anything to help support your relationship, you have to do something about that."

She nodded. "Okay… Thanks."

Courtney stared at her for a while. "Is there anything else you wish to tell me? You still have a couple of minutes left, Lindsay," she said.

"No, there's nothing else. And I'll just go now. I'll definitely try what you suggested." She got off the chair, pulling down her small strapless dress and walked over to her. She embraced Courtney tightly. "Thank you, thank you!"

Courtney was surprised by the tight hug. Lindsay's huge chest was suffocating her own.

Lindsay pulled away and smiled. There was a hint of sadness in her blue eyes. She waved and left, closing the door quietly in the process.

Courtney sighed and rubbed her forehead. She got off of her chair and dumped the objects she was holding on the desk. She then walked over to the couch Lindsay was sitting on and lied down there. She put her arm over her eyes.

She didn't have the time to focus on Lindsay's problems. Her problems may seem challenging, but it was easy to get through. They were one of the minor problems in Courtney's point of view. But at least she got a bit of information about Mr. Banks.

_He depends on his perception and power, _she thought. _He's so…observant of everything. It's like he can read people's minds and understand how to talk to them. Ugh!_

The door opened, interrupting Courtney's jumbled thoughts. She removed the arm over her eyes and lifted her head up slightly. Seeing it was only Miranda, her head fell on the couch.

"Yes, Miranda?"

"Phone call." Miranda walked over and held out the phone.

"Why didn't the phone in here ring?"

"Because you turn it off during sessions, remember, Miss?" Her tone held a bit of mock in it, but Courtney ignored it.

Courtney sat up reluctantly and grabbed the phone from Miranda who left hurriedly. She put the phone on her ear, collapsing again.

"Courtney Neville speaking."

"Hey, Princess."

A smile formed on her lips. "Duncan… I haven't heard from you in a while. How is everything?"

"Well, I'm still not talking to Gwen. I'm hanging out with a buddy of mine who's been annoying me. I realized we haven't talked, so I called you at work. But yeah, nothing special has happened recently."

"I see…" She felt lost with words. Why was so difficult speaking with him now?

"So how's it with you? Dumped with school work and crazy clients?"

"Yeah. Um…listen—when are we going to continue our sessions? I mean, there are still a lot of things to—" She got cut off.

"Not yet, babe. At least…for a while. I don't know, but I just don't feel ready to go to therapy yet. Sorry about that. It's just—it's hard to explain. And anyways, my best bud is leaving soon to America and I gotta spend time with him." Courtney couldn't figure out his tone.

Disappointment flooded through her for some reason. "Oh. It's fine. You have lots of time, but don't let your free time drag on, all right? There's so much to discuss… But regardless, you have fun with your friend, Duncan. Don't spread your idiocy to the world," she joked.

He chuckled. "Will do, sweetie. See ya soon. Bye." A dial tone appeared.

The conversation was too short. It was like he didn't want to talk to her, and he was just kind of _forced _to talk to her somehow. She didn't want to think like that, but it felt like it. There must be something bothering him that she was not aware of.

But she knew that she had to help Duncan solve his problems. They were still in the beginning of the development. Therapy did take time, but this was lagging too long. They both couldn't keep on stalling and avoiding it, especially Duncan. Sometimes, Courtney had to push away her problems and focus on her job. This was too much for her.

She could handle it. She had to.

**. . .**

Bridgette waved at Courtney from the towel she was standing on. She was wearing denim shorts, but she wore a swimsuit top. She was smiling hugely.

Courtney dumped her belongings on the beach towel. She didn't want to have some leisure time, but she had to relax some time; and she wanted to spend some quality time with Bridgette.

Bridgette lied down on her stomach, stretching a bit. "Guess _what_?" she exclaimed excitedly. "I got a job! I'm working at the shack part-time now, but this new job I got is full-time. The pay and hours are _amazing_! My boss is also incredibly nice."

Courtney unfolded the chair she brought and sat down on it. She pulled out a book from her bag and opened the page the bookmark was placed in. "That's good, Bridge. What's your job?"

She hesitated a bit. "I'm a helper at this pre-school. It's far away, though." She was quiet for a while. "But it's great, 'cause I love kids!"

Courtney continued listening to Bridgette's praise for her job. She was glad that her best friend finally got a job she loved so much. She always had trouble finding jobs ever since they graduated.

Bridgette had a scholarship to a college, but she declined it for some reason. She never told anyone at all, but Courtney didn't mind since it was probably something personal. After that, she had a ton of bad luck. Courtney offered help, but she declined that, as well. Bridgette liked to earn things on her own.

"In case something happens, Bridgette, I'm always here to help. You keep rebuffing my help, but I understand how you think. It's not so terrible to accept help once in a while, you know. Even I accept help—at times," Courtney informed her.

Bridgette applied more sunscreen on her arms. "I got that. But you know me, Court—I don't want help. I want you to focus on your problems and ignore mine. I can handle it. And _if _I do need your help, I'll go to you right away. I'm fine." She smiled.

The therapist smiled back and read on. _I don't have to worry about Bridgette. That's good to know. It gives me less to be so stressful about. Though, still, I have to keep an eye on her. She's a thoughtless person sometimes._

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She took it out and checked the person who was calling. She grimaced when she saw it was her boss.

"Yes, Mr. Banks?" she asked.

"Courtney, sweetie! I am calling to notify you and everyone else that I will be leaving to Paris for quite some time. I have some business to attend to. Perhaps I'll be back in about two weeks. Make sure you do your job greatly. Disenchantment is not allowed. Hmm… I'll probably be back earlier since I have some extra help. Well, goodbye!" Mr. Banks said.

Courtney rolled her eyes, snorting in disgust.

"Who was that?" Bridgette questioned.

"My terrible boss, Mr. Banks. He's telling me that he's going on a trip somewhere I don't need to know about. Ugh, I fucking _hate _him!" She shoved her cell phone back in her pocket.

"You're overreacting, Courtney. People have their annoying sides in their personality."

"For instance, your insane niceness?"

"Ha-ha. Anyways, you shouldn't act like that. He was the one who gave you that job, _which _is the job you're currently successful in." She smiled smugly.

_Oh, if only you knew… _But Courtney didn't want her to know about him.

Now that she thought about Mr. Banks more, she found her decision—she would focus on Mr. Banks first. There was something that was bothering her, and she didn't want to believe it. It seemed impossible and too much of an amplification.

Mr. Banks could surely kill her.

It was a fifty/fifty chance, in actuality. But concerning all of the stories and controversies surrounding him in the media with many people, it could be probable. It was quite stupid to think of something like that, but…the idea just popped in her head.

He was a dangerous man. Of course, he would be useless and weak without his power, men, and connections. Without them, what would he do? Furthermore, Mr. Banks was an old person—he should be retiring soon. Hopefully.

Her worries about Duncan were pushed to the side for now. She wouldn't forget about him, no, but she had to do that. She had a feeling Duncan was part of Banks's merciless plans but unconsciously. She had to get more information about him fast. These would take time, but she didn't have all the time in the world. She couldn't risk getting more help from other people; this was her problem and her problem only.

"Courtney," Bridgette called softly. "Answer this—do you think everything happens for a reason?"

The question startled Courtney. "Yes, I do. Things just don't happen, like accidents. If you look at this religiously or scientifically, then both observations would be quite the same in those fields. For example, my past didn't happen for nothing. Look at me now—I'm okay. Life's like that, Bridgette." She paused. "What's with that sudden question?"

She shrugged. "It's nothing… Just a random thing, I guess."

"Hm."

If everything happened for a reason, it would mean that Duncan's issues with Gwen from the start meant something. Could it be that Duncan's problems with Gwen had to happen so…he and Courtney could meet? Everything they had been through—just what did it mean? Fate? Courtney didn't really believe in that.

_Meeting Duncan… Does that mean something? Do I _have _to meet him? I wonder what's in store for us in the future… Ugh, I can't lose focus. Things like this are unnecessary for now. Duncan can wait. And besides, he said he needed some time alone._

Fate. Destiny. Those two words were all just fairytale words. Those words would only make people hope too much, and then if what they hope for wasn't achieved, their hopes would die, making them brokenhearted. Fate and destiny were just meaningless words; they meant the same thing, had the same _un_happy ending.

"Do you believe in fate?"

Bridgette pulled down her sunglasses and looked at her. "Of course," she replied. "Fate is like…related to reasons—except I think fate is more…more its _own_ character, you know? Fate goes with the flow, but at the same time, fate decides everything. It decides _reasons_, too. That's just what I feel, though." She smiled and lied back down, sighing in relief.

Fate. Reason.

_Such troublesome words._

Bridgette did have a point, though. If Courtney believed in reasons, a much more realistic belief, then why couldn't she believe in fate? Was it because she grew up thinking that fate was just something too surreal? They were both related, fate and reasons. But everyone had their own opinions about things.

_Gah! I'm losing my focus again. Keep your eyes on the main point, Courtney. Don't let insignificant worries cloud your mind, blind your eyes. Focus, focus, focus…_

"Maybe your meeting with Duncan was _fate_, eh?" Bridgette joked, smiling slyly at her.

"One word: preposterous."

"Uh-huh…"

_My meeting with Duncan—_fate_? That idea is so…_

Images of Duncan appeared in her head again. All the memories of them together in the beginning, useless sessions they had, kisses they shared…it all played at once in her head. Just seeing all of those scenes play and images show made Courtney's chest ache a bit.

_Shit. I'm losing focus again. Damn you, Duncan._

_

* * *

_**TBC.**

**[Get ready; the next chapter is a long one.**

**And since it's long, chapter sixteen will come a bit late. Although it's summer break here, I'm still busy.**

**Oh!**

**And I have a new DxC story in mind.]  
**


	16. sixteen

The girl grabbed her luggage from Duncan unkindly and left without a word.

Duncan rolled his eyes and jumped over the front desk counter, landing next to Faye, one of his co-workers. He stretched his arms and leaned against the key cabinet. He shut his eyes close and tried to fall asleep.

Someone shook him, obliterating his thirty second tranquility. "Duncan, there are more luggage. Room 217. Hurry," he or she said.

All day, he had been carrying heavy loads of luggage up to their rooms. It was his job, him being a bellboy and all, but he needed a break. Recently, the hotel manager was stern on them since there were a lot of Asian tourists coming over to their hotel—but mostly, the entire hotel guests were business people.

He just couldn't take it. He needed the money, though, and there wasn't much to do now. All of the guests didn't treat him right, and some were really maddening. The only tip he got was from this girl who he _supposedly _flirted with. All he did was unintentionally brush his hand against her arm, and she was all flirtatious and giggly. It irked him, but he had to remain hospitable—by not talking to her.

He couldn't visualize himself ruining his so-called "badass punk" image—even if he was already an adult. The punks nowadays were just a bunch of wannabes, and Duncan wanted to show living proof of what a _real _punk was. He would continue doing that, and he wouldn't stop even for a silly hotel guest.

Now, Duncan was glad that he was out of work.

He drove when the stoplight turned green. His cell phone started ringing, and he answered it.

"Speak."

"Hey, dude. I have something major to tell you," Geoff said on the other line. "I'm dating someone. And that someone is Trent's cousin, Sage."

Duncan almost halted the car to a stop, but he restrained himself. "What the hell, Geoff?" he yelled. "You're practically dating the fucking enemy!"

"E-Enemy? What're you talking about? She's just Trent's cousin."

"_Exactly. _If she hangs around with us, she'll be watching me. She's going to be like a spy for Trent—maybe even Gwen. Dude, can you date someone else? It's just…weird."

"No! She's _amazing_, man. It's hard to find girls like her, and get this: she's a _wedding _planner."

"So?"

He groaned. "She's a _wedding_ planner; I'm a _party_ planner. It's like…fate. We're probably destined to be together or something. Anyways, I have to go now. I have work, and I have a date with Sage afterwards. See you later, Duncan." There was a click and then no sound.

Duncan scoffed and threw his cell phone on the passenger seat. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and he sped up.

It had been almost three weeks since he had last seen Gwen from the bar. During those agonizing three weeks, he had been wondering what she was doing. She never once called him. Duncan assumed she was hanging around with Trent a lot. He didn't like that. He knew he had to talk to her soon. He was still pissed off at her, but this could go on for so long.

After he talked with Gwen, he would go straight to Courtney's office to have their sessions together. He didn't need to make an appointment; he was too special to do that. He practically had Jill, the British girl managing the front desk, putty in his hands. That building was almost like a second home to him.

_Oh, shit, _he thought. _Do I still go to Geoff's apartment? But what about Gwen…? Nah, I'll just borrow some of his clothes again, and then I'll talk to Gwen._

As soon as he arrived in front of the apartment building Geoff was temporarily living at, he ran up the stairs and headed straight into the room. He grabbed a simple dark gray T-shirt and some jeans. He took a quick shower and changed into those clothes. He went inside the kitchen and grabbed a chocolate bar, eating it in two bites. After that, he went outside to his car.

He wondered if Gwen was ready to talk with him. He didn't want to call; he wanted to surprise her. But even if she wasn't ready, he would force her to be ready. Three weeks was enough of a break for the both of them. Duncan didn't want to just run away from his problems; he did that too much.

There were just a lot of things he had to do.

Right now, he was going to talk to Gwen. It would probably take a long time, depending on Gwen's mood. If Gwen was still furious with him, her volatile emotion would spread to Duncan, making him furious. Angry tongues would shout at each other, spouting out things it didn't mean—or did it?—causing another break. But he would avoid that.

Next, he was going to discuss with Courtney about his problems. She deserved to know first now. Duncan still didn't know if Gwen even cared about his problems. He had to have multiples of sessions with Courtney until everything was settled—if it ever settled.

Then—

Then _what_?

Come to think of it, Duncan never really focused on anything other than his problems, Courtney, Gwen, and Trent. He didn't like to think too far ahead of what he planned, because it might ruin the events before the rest. It would be too much for his brain. He wasn't fond of feeling stressed out.

_I think what I'll do afterwards will depend on what the result of my sessions with Courtney would be. Eh, I shouldn't think that far. I'll let the chips fall where they may, I guess._

He let out a deep breath.

Duncan actually didn't know what to say to Gwen. He didn't think everything through. He just knew that he was going to talk to her, but…how? That was the question. He planned things, but he didn't go plan them properly, accurately. He was the "go with the flow" kind of guy—but only to certain circumstances.

The building came into view, and for some reason, Duncan felt tense. This wasn't like him; he felt like a huge coward. He was a rough man who decided what was right and what was wrong for himself. He didn't care if what he planned went awry. That was life. He was going to wing it.

His steps were slow, but he tried to move faster.

They had fought before—how was this time going to make a difference than the others? From all the fights they had, they always made up even if the fight was too callous and too wounding. Couples were like that. It didn't help that they were almost alike, because they were both harsh people, quick to say what was on their mind. But through all of that, they stayed together no matter what.

He walked to the front door and held up his hand. He stopped and put it down.

"What the hell am I doing? I live here too," Duncan muttered.

He opened the door, breathing in the air inside. It smelled like how it usually smelled—soft and enduring. He closed the door softly, hoping he wouldn't scare her. Since the door was open, of course Gwen was here. He turned to the left, into the living room.

The first thing he saw was…

…was…

…w—

"_What the fuck?" _

Gwen and Trent pulled away, eyes instantaneously widening. Gwen fixed her shirt while Trent smoothed down his hair.

The couch pillows were scattered everywhere. The room was dim. From the side, where the dinner table was at, there were some plates with unfinished food on it. Wine glasses were near it, completely empty. It was like…a date or something.

Gwen was merely staring at Duncan, looking guilty as ever. Her face was filled with such open regret that it made Duncan even angrier. He wasn't normally a hotheaded person, but this view in front of him was so unbelievable, so…wrong.

Trent wasn't staring at anyone. His green eyes were planted firmly on the couch. He looked shocked and maybe even slightly frightened. It made Duncan feel a bit complacent, but he pushed that aside for now.

Betrayal, fury, anger, and sadness exploded inside his entire being. He was frozen on the spot he was standing on. His teal eyes were focused on the two blameworthy people. His hands were formed into tight fists, knuckles turning really white. His breathing was startlingly slow and steady, but what he was feeling was far from similar.

Gwen was the first to speak, breaking the overwrought silence: "Duncan…I—I don't know how to explain this. But please—"

"'It's not what you think'? Is that what you were going to say? Huh? Answer me, Gwen. Is that what you were going to _fucking _say?" Duncan gritted his teeth. "Because right now, it _is _what I think! You can't expect me to believe that you guys were playing thumb war—with tongue! That's rich, sweetie. You want to know my point of view? I see my girlfriend, the girl I _thought _I loved, sucking face with that damn fucker!"

She was cheating on him. It was plain to see. He could just leave right now and never, ever come back. But the words never stopped its heated trail out of his angry mouth.

"I went over here to talk about that fight we had weeks ago. I wanted to straighten things out. I thought that we would make up and everything would be okay. I guess I was wrong for fucking assuming, right? Fuck me, right? No, no, no… That's wrong. Fuck _you_!"

Trent glared at him. "Hey, Duncan! Gwen shouldn't be the only one taking all the—," he started angrily.

"You shut your damn mouth! This isn't about you!" He looked at Gwen coldly. "I'm tired, Gwen. I'm tired as hell. All of this fighting—"

"We've fought _before_, Duncan!" Gwen spat. "But our fights became even more serious and serious. Maybe it's because we're both not working this out right, and we—"

"Just shut the _hell up_, Gwen! What's with all this 'we' crap? Yes, my trust problems and past problems are affecting us, but it's only affecting me. You're getting affected, because you're making yourself get affected. You don't need to be involved. I'm trying and trying. I've been taking those goddamn sessions for all of this to stop. What are _you _doing? Please _enlighten _me with your _wonderful _response."

She didn't say anything.

"The snappy goddess is silent now, huh? Where are all your smartass comments?" He chuckled humorlessly. "You've done _nothing_. I'm here busting my ass while you are in 'Fucker Land'! If you say that you're going to help me, then why aren't you committing to your so-called promises?"

Duncan was just angry. He was angry with how everything turned out. He wanted to scream out loud until his lungs burst. He wanted to break everything in the apartment, especially a certain someone's spine. But he remained in control; he didn't want to act like a foolish freak. He wasn't like that anymore.

"Were you about to have sex with him?" he inquired softly.

"We were just kissing—"

"You cheated on me." His tone was hollow, empty. "You…cheated on…me."

"Oh, cut it out with the fucking mood swings, Duncan! Don't tell me that you never kissed that Courtney girl before!" Gwen yelled.

"I did, but I never had sex with her."

"So you _did _cheat on me!"

He rolled his eyes at her. "We just kissed, that's all! That's not considered as cheating!"

"That's what you think. And listen here, buddy—not everyone thinks like you. You made intimate physical contact with another girl, and that's considered as cheating to me." She looked hurt, but she tried to cover it up.

It didn't distress him, though. "Stop switching to victim mode. I kissed her—so what? At least I _didn't have sex with her_! Look at you, Miss Let's-Wait-Until-We're-In-the-Mood—you're having sex with someone who's not with you! I never had sex with Courtney, because I knew that you would never have sex with Trent. I thought you loved me enough to not go that trail. That…was the only thing I ever trusted you with."

"Yeah. The _only _thing." She scowled.

Duncan stared at the tiled floor. "It's over, Gwen. We're over. This is fucking done. I'm sick and tired of this shit. All these lies… I'm leaving. When I'm officially cooled down, I'll get my damn stuff. Have a goddamn happy life with Elvis." He turned around and departed from the place he wanted to destroy.

He slammed the car door hard and immediately zipped right out of the parking lot. He almost hit a few cars, but he made it through without any scratches.

His trust towards Gwen—in the trashcan forever.

His love for Gwen—did it even exist?

Everything he had done—useless now.

Things were just in the wrong places now. The puzzle needed to be started all over again. Everything changed drastically, and Duncan didn't like that. Change wasn't what he liked to experience. But he knew this had to happen. Somewhere, deep down inside of him, he knew that this would happen. He just…didn't want it to happen like this. Duncan's breakup with Gwen ended messily. He wasn't sure if he would talk to her again in the future to have some closure. But for the time being, he didn't want to see her face or Trent's, either.

There _was_ one person he desperately wanted to see, though.

**. . .**

Duncan saw Courtney's car as he drove inside, parking near it. It was a good thing she was here; he needed to see her, talk to her. He got out of his car quickly and practically ran to the door. He knocked hard two times.

After Duncan left the apartment building he and Gwen lived in, Courtney popped into his mind. He had to talk to her. He needed to talk to someone—someone that could help him calm down and relax. He wanted to let it all out, everything that was bugging the hell out of him since the beginning. Courtney was the right one to talk to.

The door opened, showing a groggy-looking Courtney. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw Duncan standing there on the doorstep.

"Can I come in, Princess?" he asked. He realized he hadn't used that famous nickname in a while.

She nodded slowly and opened the door wider.

Duncan slowly stepped inside, feeling the warmth radiating off of Courtney as he passed by her.

She was wearing, Duncan assumed, her pajamas. She wore a tight-fitting tank top. The hem was lifted up a bit, showing a bit of her stomach. Unfortunately, she wasn't wearing her boy shorts; rather she was wearing regular cotton shorts. Her hair was tied up, making Duncan see a whole new look on Courtney. But even so, he enjoyed the view. She still looked sexy to him.

Courtney closed the door quietly.

Duncan went up close to her, inches away. Just by one little movement of his arm and his hand would immediately touch her tanned skin.

She turned around and looked surprised to see Duncan standing so close to her. He moved closer, and their chests met. He brought up a hand to her forearm, and he stroked it delicately. She shivered from the touch, but her eyes remained focused on Duncan's eyes.

"Gwen and I broke up," Duncan said emotionlessly.

Her eyes widened yet again. "W-Why?" she stammered. "What happened?"

The words came out fast. "She cheated on me. With her ex. The ass. Trent. Remember him?"

She looked speechless, opening her mouth but not saying anything. Clearly, she was really shocked. She probably didn't want to say anything wrong, so she was trying to find the right words to say. She was struggling, though.

Duncan caught her in an embrace, automatically burying his face in her brown locks. Courtney's arms wound around his neck tightly. He stroked the back of her head with one hand while the other was planted firmly on the small of her back. She gently played with the small hairs on the back of his head.

He felt happy. He felt safe. He felt…warm. The minute he saw Courtney's face, the minute he felt her irresistible touch…he was just joyful. It sounded clichéd, but it was true. In all honesty, he wanted to stay within her arms forever. He didn't care if that sounded unmanly. Right now, it was him and her.

"Let's talk in the living room," Courtney murmured in his chest. "It's much more comfortable."

Duncan was already comfortable enough, but he obeyed her wishes. She grabbed his hand and led him to her living room.

"You can go lie down on that couch there. I'll sit on the recliner here. It'll be like in those movies, where the therapist is on the chair and the client is on the couch, talking about the problems floating around in their head, right?" She was about to walk to the recliner when Duncan grabbed her arm.

"What the—?"

They were in the same position again. Courtney's onyx eyes moved upwards, seeing that somber look in Duncan's teal eyes. His eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't want to lie down on that couch. I want you to sit down on that couch with me, and I'll lay my head on your lap."

"Are…you sure?"

"Damn fucking positive."

Courtney sat down on the couch, and Duncan lied down on it, placing his head on her lap. He looked straight through her eyes, and she did the same thing. She played with his Mohawk with her right hand lightly, just staring at him.

It was okay to like Courtney now. It was okay to admit it out loud. Duncan was a single man, and single men were dangerous creatures. They had no manacles around their hands and feet, no tape around their mouth. Even though Duncan felt free, it was as if he was still under the command of this crazy woman looking at him with such passionate eyes. He didn't like that, being controlled by someone—but this was a good thing, a humorous thing.

He hoped.

_Courtney, a control freak? Possible. But I could handle her freakiness anytime, anywhere._

He opened his mouth.

"Ready, Princess?"

She nodded once.

"My sister dated a guy back in middle school when she was in her seventh grade year. He was her first boyfriend. His name was Steven Nichols. There isn't much to say about him, but I'll just say that he was an ordinary boy—at first impression, of course. So anyway, Elli was really into this guy. We all didn't really believe that considering the fact that she was only thirteen years old.

"Everything went fine, though. I hated the dude for taking away my time with Elli, but I liked him, 'cause he made her happy as hell. She looked like she was super in love with the guy. They dated for about four months—which was long for two middle schoolers." He took a deep breath.

Courtney rubbed his hand with her left one affectionately, giving him more strength to tell her.

"Then…Elli started to become distant. She wasn't like her usual sarcastic, sunny self whenever she came home from school. She was quiet and gloomy. Usually, Steven would walk her home, but she walked home alone. That irritated the hell out of me, but I didn't do anything about it. They were probably having those little fights of theirs. But this one was serious. Elli would come into my bedroom and ask me to hold her while she cried. Dude, Courtney, she cried _a lot_. It made me…sad—and angry. I wanted to fucking beat up the puss.

"Elli didn't tell me much about her problems with Steven, though. But the only information I pried out of her was that Steven wasn't telling her anything now. She knew he was having family problems, but…he wouldn't say anything to her. She felt useless to know that Steven didn't trust her anymore."

_Damn… Who knew that this could be so hard? _Duncan thought. _Ugh, was this what Courtney felt like? I give her props for actually handling it with a cool face, though…_

"She stopped telling me things now. She'd come home and go to her room right away. She didn't talk to any of us…even me." He gulped audibly. "It sucks that your little sister, the one who looked up to you and would tell you anything, wouldn't even say one freaking word to you, you know? I felt helpless. I didn't know what to do."

_Crap, here comes the hard part._

"One day, when I came home from my community service thing, because I did something wrong again, nobody was home. My mom and dad were at the station, as usual, and my brothers were hanging out together somewhere. Elli was supposed to be home by now since I saw her shoes on the side.

"The place was freaking quiet, babe. I went up to Elli's room to check up on her. I wanted to see if she was okay since she was alone for about two hours at home. As soon as I opened the door…I—"

Duncan covered his face with his hand, hoping he could shield the vulnerable look appearing on his face. He felt humiliated; he didn't want Courtney to see that ugly side of him.

"Fuck, Courtney… I…saw—" he took a deep, deep breath "—Elli hanging from the ceiling with…a rope tied around her neck." He clenched his teeth together. "There was this hook near the light on the ceiling, and that's where she tied the rope. She hung herself; she…k-killed herself."

Courtney grabbed Duncan and hugged him securely. She stroked his back lovingly, murmuring soothing words as he held onto her. He wasn't crying, but he just needed someone to hold him. His face was on her chest, breathing in her soft scent. His hands were snaked around her small waist, holding on so tightly as if he was afraid he might fall.

He did it. He told Courtney the truth. He finally told someone other than Geoff what happened in his past. To be honest, Duncan didn't tell Geoff all the details on what happened; he only said that his sister hung himself, but he didn't go into full detail about it. But still—he was glad that he told someone. It was relieving to have it off of his chest, and he felt light. This was how Courtney felt when she told him about her story before probably, and it felt incredibly…nice.

She was the right one—the one who Duncan could completely commend his secrets to. From day one, he felt as if this crazy therapist was a trustworthy person, but, of course, he had his doubts. He was still a suspicious man back then.

The couple let go. Duncan sat upright and situated himself properly next to Courtney. Their shoulders were touching comfortingly. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it once.

"You never talked to your parents for seven years, right?" Courtney questioned quietly.

"Yeah… After the incident with Elli, I didn't want to talk to them anymore. She didn't get a proper burial, you know. She was cremated. I wanted her to be buried, but apparently we didn't have enough money for that. I don't want my sister to be a pile of ash in a cramped up, old lady vase. That's offensive to Elli; I know that, at least. I started to hate all of them, because a few weeks after her death, they started acting normally—'cept for me. My mom was all like, 'Duncan, let go now. Elli wouldn't want you hurting.'

"I said, 'How the hell would _you _fucking know? You're not Elli.'

"Then I moved out officially when I was around fifteen years old. It sucked, but I still graduated with some decent grades. I don't plan on being anything fancy like a doctor, which I fucking hate, or a scientist."

"Why do you hate doctors?"

"Trips to the hospital when I was little. I used to play soccer a lot back then, and I broke a few bones here and there. The doctors freaked the hell out of me, and I started to hate them. It's nothing that personal, and I don't wish them dead; but…yeah, I hate them."

Courtney moved her body to the left, bringing her left leg up to the couch a little bit. "Wait… Seven years…fifteen… You're twenty-two?"

He nodded. "Why?"

"But—but I thought you were the same age as me!"

"I flunked two times: during seventh grade and during sophomore year. It was my fault; I got a bit lazy. But that's all trash now. So basically I'm two years older than you." He smirked. "Like older men, honey?"

She scoffed. "Two years older _physically_. That doesn't include _mentally_," she retorted, rolling her eyes at him.

Duncan laughed. It was assuring to know that they still talked to each other like always. His past didn't impinge on her, and that was really lightening. He was impressed to know that not much changed her. That proved just how strong Courtney was.

He yawned.

"Damn, what time is it?"

Courtney looked at the clock hanging on the wall across from her. "It's 2:00 a.m."

"Aw, hell, really?" He had an idea. "Can I sleep with you?"

She stared at him.

"That's not what I meant. Jeez, babe, don't confuse yourself with your fantasies."

She elbowed him in the stomach. "Shut your juvenile mouth, Duncan!" She sighed. "And…yes, you may sleep with me. Don't try anything like putting your hand under my shirt."

He grinned widely. "Now that you mention it—"

Courtney shushed him, and she grabbed his hand, leading him up to her bedroom. His grin never wavered as he followed her up the steps. When they entered her bedroom, she let go of his hand and stretched her arms, groaning. Duncan raised an eyebrow, seeing how her shirt rose even higher. He saw more of her luscious skin again. But he tried to remain in control of his desires.

Courtney walked over to the window and closed the curtains, darkening the room. She went to the bed and fluffed the pillows a couple times and pulled the covers down a bit. She went to the bathroom. Duncan followed her in. She gave him an extra toothbrush from the medicine cabinet, and then she started brushing her teeth.

Duncan brushed his teeth while staring at Courtney from the mirror. She wasn't looking at him; she was looking at her own reflection. But he knew that she was aware of his powerful stare engrossed on her. Her body looked tense under his stare, too. He smirked underneath the foam of the toothpaste forming out of his mouth.

He leaned down to spit out the toothpaste, purposely brushing his arm against her waist as she kept on brushing her teeth. He stood up straight and began brushing again. He was closer to her now.

"Move even closer to me, and I'll shove that toothbrush down your throat," Courtney threatened incoherently.

Duncan laughed.

After a couple of improper touches and teasing, Duncan and Courtney finally went straight to bed. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, making Courtney gasp quietly. She eventually relaxed under his embrace and snuggled closer to him.

"Don't try anything."

"Can't promise you anything, darling."

They settled into complete silence. Duncan listened to Courtney's soft breathing calmly, enjoying it.

_This feels…pretty all right, _he thought. _It's like we're a couple or somethin' like that. Huh. Courtney and me, eh? That's a cool picture to see. But she _is _a feisty challenge. Oh well—I always win my challenges. Get ready, Princess._

"Courtney," Duncan called. "Do you _like _me?" He knew the answer already, but he wanted to watch—and maybe even _feel_—her fidget.

She snorted in disgust. "That's outlandish, Duncan. What gave you such an implausible initiative?" Her tone sounded a bit nervous.

He smirked. She was playing right into his scheming hands. "Well…I like you."

He felt her stiffen.

"How come _I _can admit it and _you _can't?"

"We're two diverse people, you _Catrol Vancliechin_. I don't think the way you do. And I don't like you, so that adds onto that. Besides, you _think _you like me. I _know _I don't like you. See the difference?"

"I'm a what?"

Courtney sighed exasperatedly. "You graduated in high school, did you not? _Catrol Vancliechin_ is the scientific name for _monkey_. Lodge that into your brain properly; I'm sure it will be put into good use for your upcoming resumes. They'll want to know what your family name is." She snickered.

"You're _hilarious_."

Duncan kissed her neck and tightened his hold on her. He stroked her arm that was wrapped around Duncan's continuously. He breathed in the scent of her hair. He could never stop smelling her hair; it smelled fantastic. It wasn't full of nasty hair products. It was the smell of her shampoo, and he loved it.

"'Night, Princess."

"'Night, Duncan."

Tomorrow would be a new day.

* * *

**TBC.**

**[Yeah, their breakup was messy.**

**Blah.]**


	17. seventeen

**(Edited: 8/26/2010**

**Concerning my lack of knowledge about dairy products.**

**Thanks, _CarmillaD_. :)**

**And yes, I will soon update this. It's just...school.**

**And that _danggggg _author's block.)  
**

* * *

Courtney could feel the bright morning light hit her eyelids, peeking from behind the curtains. She couldn't breathe well; her chest was being excruciatingly suffocated. Her legs felt tangled with something else, as well. She didn't feel like she was on her bed.

Her bleary eyes opened, seeing the dark curtains. Her head was facing directly to that part of the room. Her neck was aching a lot. She moved her head forward and smelled something…refreshing.

She was on top of Duncan.

She felt her entire face grow really warm. She put her hands on either side of his body and lifted herself up a bit. She picked up her head.

He was still asleep. His face was totally serene-looking. It was quite strange to see him like this since he always had this cocky façade painted on his face most of the time. He looked younger, like an innocent little boy—which was hilariously ironic if you knew his dreadful personality.

On an impulse, she kissed him.

And he kissed back.

Courtney was about to pull away when his large hand was on the back of her head, deepening the sudden kiss. He forced his tongue inside her mouth and began the French kissing. She felt his tongue piercing. She pulled away abruptly and slipped off the bed, landing on her rear end.

"Damn it!" she shrieked as the pain formed on her rear. She glared at Duncan who was laughing out loud audaciously. _Oh, Duncan—what a _gentleman _you are._

She stood up, swaying as a sudden vertigo hit her. She clutched her head and waited until the dizziness went away. As soon as she put her hand down, muscular arms snaked around her waist from behind. She looked to her right, and once again, her lips were being kissed by an eager man.

This time, though, she didn't pull away. She twisted around his firm embrace and kissed him properly. She couldn't move her arms, for they were locked on both sides by his arms. She didn't mind.

The reason why she pulled away before was because she felt weird kissing him on the bed. She was afraid something might start if they didn't stop and got too passionate, _into it_. And besides, she was on top of him; she might not be able to control herself any longer.

It didn't help her self-control since he was shirtless—but denial seemed to overcome her again.

After six minutes of making out, they headed inside the bathroom, fixing up whatever they need to. Courtney looked at herself in the mirror, brushing her slightly tangled mane gently.

"Hey, darling dearest, do you have an extra set of clothes for me?" Duncan asked, sitting on the toilet seat. He stretched his arms, yawning. "I don't want to wear the same thing, you know."

"What am I, a guy? I don't have any clothes for your…stature." She bent down and spat out the remaining signs of toothpaste foam, mixed with saliva, hoping Duncan didn't see the redness splattering on her cheeks. "You should've brought some clothes before you came here."

"Yeah, but I didn't _know _I would sleep over here. I'm not clairvoyant."

"That's not my responsibility."

He stood up. "I'll just remain shirtless. Hope you don't mind, sweetie." He winked at her and grabbed his toothbrush when she stepped away from the sink.

It wasn't like his shirtless body was affecting her greatly. She just wasn't used to having a half-naked man in her room, alone with her. That happened _once_, but that was an idiotic occurrence. Yes, she knew that Duncan was…well-formed—she wasn't blind—but that wasn't doing anything to her. She was fine. She didn't care. She wouldn't go "goo-goo, ga-ga" over this moron next to her.

He spat out the water and wiped his face on the towel hanging near him. He looked at Courtney through the mirror. "Why have you been standing there, staring at me?" He smirked. "Like what you see?"

Her eyes widened. She didn't know she was doing that. She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Oh, _please_, Duncan. Don't flatter yourself. I was just waiting for you to finish up so we could eat breakfast together." She turned away and began walking outside with Duncan in tow.

_Ugh, that Duncan… He's so arrogant, it aggravates me. I was just waiting for him; I wasn't _staring_. It's not like I was paying attention to his back muscles, which looked so, _so_ firm. I definitely wasn't focusing on his biceps and triceps and the way it flexed whenever he moved it up and down. Oh…and those muscles… I just wanted to—crap, what am I thinking? I was just waiting for him. Yeah, that's all!_

Courtney groaned to herself while she looked through the cabinets for something to make. Seeing nothing edible enough for breakfast, she checked through the refrigerator. From her peripheral vision, she saw Duncan leaning on the counter with his elbows placed on it, whistling to himself. She looked through the fridge and cursed.

"There's nothing to eat," she announced, closing the door with her bare foot. "Do you want to eat out somewhere?"

Duncan blew a raspberry. "Well, I don't know, Princess…," he replied, having this annoying tone on. "I mean, I can't go out looking like this." He stood up properly, gesturing to his naked torso.

Courtney tried to remain calm.

He grinned, obviously knowing what she was thinking. "It would please _you _and the ladies, but not everyone else if you know what I mean."

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to focus her rebellious eyes on his mischievous ones. "You weren't shirtless last night. Explain that."

"There's a thing called _taking it out_, you know. You should try it. I want to see you try it." He gave her a sly look.

Courtney rolled her eyes and forced him to go change into his shirt. He surprisingly obeyed her demands and left to her room. She looked down at her attire and sighed. She followed him afterwards, wanting to change into something proper.

When she entered the room, she saw Duncan putting his shirt over his head. His arms were raised up, flexing his back muscles. Courtney shielded her eyes away from the startling view and walked quickly to her dresser. She lifted her shirt off of herself and threw it in the hamper near her. She searched frantically for a shirt decent enough through her dresser.

Warm hands gripped her waist gently.

Courtney jumped at the sudden physical contact. She kept on looking through her dresser, trying to ignore the person fondling her skin. She could feel his hot breath on her right shoulder, making her feel slightly weak.

"You do know _you're _the one who's half-naked now," Duncan whispered lowly in her ear. "As much as I'd like to…ah, _play _with you, my empty stomach can't handle its emptiness now. So if you don't mind…" He grabbed a random shirt from her dresser and shoved the head hole through her head.

She elbowed him in the guts, smirking when she heard him cuss out loud. She slammed the dresser shut and fixed the shirt that was shoved roughly on her. While Duncan was busy cussing to himself, she slipped off her shorts and grabbed some jeans on the hook near her dresser. She put them on and sighed in relief when she saw that Duncan didn't see her underwear.

She fixed her hair in a messy bun and walked to her closet, grabbing some flats to wear.

"All right," she announced. "I'm done. Let's go fill up our empty stomachs, Duncan."

He rubbed his stomach and walked next to her. He looked at her attire, scowling. "What the hell? I missed the free show? Fuck, if you didn't elbow me that hard, I would've—ugh, forget it. Let's go. You're paying."

Courtney glared at him and began rebutting.

They headed downstairs.

**. . .**

They were in front of a restaurant, staring at the façade. Courtney was quite fascinated by the warm, soft feeling radiating off of it. The exterior design clearly showed that it was meant for family breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It wasn't something extremely luxurious, which Courtney was often used to, but rather it was something of a more homey feeling. She hadn't felt this kind of air in a while.

She started walking inside the restaurant, leaving Duncan behind. When she saw the inside of the restaurant, she smiled warmly. Families were everywhere, smiling happily. Children were beaming like innocent little angels. Courtney wasn't fond of some of them, but she couldn't help but think they were adorable as they showed such genuine faces. The inside screamed family, _home_.

She didn't belong.

She felt Duncan put an arm around her waist. "Hey, let's eat here. The food looks good," he suggested. "I like this place. Oh, let's take a seat near that huge window on the far corner, babe." He grabbed her hand and started leading her there.

"Duncan! Wait, I don't know if—"

"Ah, shut up. This place is cool enough for the both of us. The food is what matters, right?" He looked back and winked. "Now, let's hurry before someone steals our spot."

Courtney sighed, relenting. She didn't want to tell him that she felt like a huge outcast in here, for he might get mad at her. She knew him too well.

Family. The word sounded strange in her mind. It wasn't an everyday vocabulary word for her. She wondered if this was something in her future—a family. Getting married, having babies, growing old together—she thought those kinds of things weren't set out for her, or she didn't deserve such precious experiences. She grew up with people around her—but the only family she ever had was Bridgette. Her mother took care of her; she didn't do much for Courtney.

They sat down at the table Duncan wanted. He called for a waiter and ordered food while Courtney looked out the window, still feeling misplaced. The room was just filled with so much warmness…and love.

"Hey," Duncan called, sounding a bit concerned. "Are you all right, Courtney? You look a bit sad or somethin'."

Courtney sighed. "I feel…weird in here. This place gives off this feeling that I never felt before," she murmured, not looking at this eyes. "I don't know; I'm just not used to it."

He chuckled. "Well, get used to it, 'cause this place is going to be my all-time favorite restaurant. Damn, did you see the menu? I got us both the same thing. Don't worry; I didn't pick anything that can affect you since you're lactose intolerant."

_What? _"How do you know I'm lactose intolerant? I never told you that."

"Bridgette told me—which I regret. I want to know more about you from you." He paused. "Speaking of which, I noticed some things about you."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Well…how do I explain this?" Duncan mumbled to himself. "You see, Princess, you like to deny things a lot."

She glared fiercely at him. "I do not—," she started yelling.

"Exactly. You're doing it again. You can't accept the truth sometimes, you know? You deny, deny, and deny. It's not a pretty habit, if you ask me. Yeah, sometimes it's amusing to see you deny that you like me, but denial can't always be your source of scapegoat. You always say you don't want this, but you do. You don't need anyone to help you, but unconsciously, you do. Remember those incidents when you asked me to help you—with that asshole Banks, especially?"

Courtney didn't want to divulge that Duncan was absolutely, positively correct. She hated it when he was being the mature, smart one, which came at rare times. She felt vulnerable under his honest words. It was like he was the therapist and she was the pathetic client of his.

He stared at her with such penetrating eyes. "Admitting it doesn't make you a weak person; it just goes to show that you're strong enough to even admit it when other people can't. You say you don't need anyone, but you need Bridgette and me. You want to be loved, because back then, you weren't loved properly or loved enough…or even loved. It's all right, Courtney. It's just me."

"Think what you want," she snapped. "But I'm fine with just the way my mind works. I'm not a pathetic person, so you don't have to help me."

"I promised Bridgette. I promised her that I would help you, and I will no matter what. You helped me. I actually told somebody the full story of what was still affecting me. It's off of my chest. That goddamn problem is in the past now. And…I thank you for letting me past it." He smiled at her.

_Duncan—smiling? Where's that annoying smirk of his? Where's his cocky nature? Who the hell is this guy? So much maturity…_

Courtney faced away from him. "At least you matured _a little bit_," she replied, feeling warm inside. "You're welcome, I guess."

He laughed. "Just admit you're in denial a lot."

"Whatever. Shut up."

"Honey, I'll take that as a 'yes.' Now that we're on-topic, admit that you like me." The smirk kicked away the smile quickly. "Stop hiding behind your damn denial and admit it."

Her high thoughts about him washed away in an instant. "I don't like you. I never liked you," she said emotionlessly.

"Then why do you kiss me all the time?"

That…she couldn't explain. Why did she always succumb to his kisses? Why did she herself give him a kiss that day in her office? All these questions pounded endlessly in her mind. It was such a shame that she didn't know the answer to them.

Maybe.

She was saved by the waiter who came by and set out their ordered dishes in front of them. She looked down at the plate in front of her and almost stabbed Duncan's eyes with a fork. She looked at him, glaring. He was busy devouring the food in front of him, moaning in immense delight. He caught Courtney's eye and gulped the food down.

"What'd I do?"

"You _moron_!" she spat. "You ordered eggs!"

He stared at her. "And? Courtney, I made sure that I didn't order any cow or whatever dairy stuff."

She really wanted to stab his eyes right now. "But it has _creamed cheese_, a _dairy product_,on it! Ugh, did you even read the name of the food before you ordered? And to think, I thought your brain worked properly now. What the hell am I going to—?" She stopped when she saw him staring at something behind her. "Duncan? What are you staring at? You're not even listening to me! Oh, my—"

"Shut up!" he growled lowly. "Gwen is here with Trent." His voice was cold as ice.

Courtney didn't dare look back, because she had a feeling that if she did, both of them would see her—especially Gwen. She didn't want to be thought as Duncan's girlfriend, the girl he was supposedly cheating with. She knew that was what Gwen thought right now. Gwen must be enraged at her. But it wasn't like that was going to make Courtney cower in fear.

She was afraid the same incident that happened back then with Trent would happen again. Duncan and Gwen weren't dating anymore, but Courtney wasn't sure if Duncan still loved her…still wanted to get back with her. He broke up with Gwen, because he was angry with what she did to him, not because of her personally. Courtney didn't want to ask him right now; he obviously still seemed furious about the occurrence.

"I'm not going to do anything. I just don't want to see her right now, and I guess fate fucking hates me, right?" Duncan laughed coldly. "Just don't look at her, please."

Courtney nodded, focusing her eyes on her food. She decided to eat the corn soup that came with the eggs. She picked up a spoon and started sipping the soup, eating the corn. It was good, but Courtney didn't notice. She was too busy staring at Duncan, gauging his reaction.

He was just eating his food quietly, staring at it. His form was stiff, though. Gwen was most likely bothering his mind right now. It made Courtney frown.

Truthfully, Courtney was quite joyful to find out that Duncan and Gwen were no longer together. She didn't care that they ended it messily; as long as they weren't together, she was okay. But it wasn't like that stopped Duncan from loving her. She didn't know. Gwen might as well still love him back even if she was with Trent. Gwen and Duncan needed to have a good talk together, to mend the broken things they had done. It hurt Courtney, but it had to be done.

"Are you still going to talk to Gwen?"

His reaction was immediate. "Didn't I just say that I didn't want to see her? Sweetheart, that also meant that I didn't want to _talk _to her, too," he replied coldly.

Anger boiled in her veins. "Stop acting so immature, Duncan. You have to face her somehow soon."

"I will. Just not right now."

"Then when? Tomorrow? Five years from now? You are most certainly not going to just leave your breakup dangling like that. Closure is what you guys need." _If you still want to break up with her, if you still love her, _she added mentally, reluctantly.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You think I don't know that? We just broke up yesterday, and all of a sudden, you want me to _plan out_ when I'm going to _talk _to her? My life's not some organizer, all right? I'm not like you, making everything all organized and neat like some kind of PDA. So just drop the damn topic and eat."

She rolled her eyes at him and started stabbing the cream cheese-covered egg furiously. She wanted to help, that's all. He was being all angry at her when, in actuality, he was angry at himself and Gwen. He didn't have to snap at her. She was just trying to be supportive in his situation.

But it was stupid to bring up such a question. They _did _recently just break up. Courtney desperately wanted to know if Duncan still loved her. She wanted them to talk it out even if she knew that they might kiss and make up. They were perfect for each other since they had the same tastes and hobbies.

Duncan breathed out a sigh of relief. "Okay, they're gone," he announced, his posture relaxing. "I thought they'd never leave."

Courtney kept quiet, playing around with her food. She was still irritated at him.

"Courtney?"

She stayed silent.

"What the—are you _mad _at me?" He laughed boisterously. "We've fought serious fights concerning Gwen before. What's with the sudden change?"

"Well, I was just being concerned for your well-being," Courtney snapped. "Breakups have to be ended properly. If you don't fix it, you're running away from it. I'm just informing you something important. You'll live to regret it. You said you loved Gwen very much, or was all that a lie?"

He stared at her, pursing his lips. He looked at her tortured eggs and grabbed them from her plate, automatically eating them. As he ate, he looked straight into her eyes. He was pondering.

"I did love Gwen, Courtney. Very, very much." He swallowed. "I didn't just say 'I love you' to her, because I thought she would feel weird. She's not the type for mushy stuff, you know. So I just depended on my actions. 'Actions speak louder and words,' and all that crap. Look, all I'm saying is…is that I'll figure everything out once I straighten things out with her. I need time."

She nodded.

Her feelings for Duncan, she knew about. She admired him for his bravery and his hidden kindness. He might not be such a courteous person, but when the time was right, he knew just what to do. He acted recklessly with his problems like with Gwen; in the end, though, he managed to do something about it. He fixed his past problems even though it took time. But he did it. And she was proud of him.

Courtney wanted to be with Duncan, but his supposed love for Gwen was in the way. She wasn't even sure if he liked her back. Yes, he admitted that he liked her that night, but…that was _like, _not _love. _She was joyful to know that he returned the same feelings. Courtney's feelings were, however, possibly higher than Duncan's.

For some reason, it scared her.

**. . . **

Courtney turned around and looked at Duncan.

"Well…I'll see you sometime soon," she started, feeling nervous. _Is he going to do that _thing _like in those clichéd romance movies? The…_kiss _thing?_

Duncan smirked. "See you soon, honey," he purred. "Are you _sure _you want to trust an ex-delinquent with your expensive car and the keys to that grand house of yours? It's a risky decision."

She rolled her eyes. "I need to reorganize the schedules since Miranda has to go to an appointment; Jill apparently _doesn't have time_, so I guess I have to do it. You can stay at my house for a while, and I'll call you to pick me up, all right?" She hesitated before adding, "I—I trust you…"

He stared at her with an indecipherable expression. He walked closer and pushed her against the door, shocking her. He put his hands on either side of her body, thus trapping her. He leaned in and roughly grabbed her oblivious lips.

_This _definitely _isn't the typical kissing; it's supposed to be soft and gentle—which doesn't seem all that fun now…, _she thought, kissing him back happily.

Courtney put her arms around his neck, pulling him in even more. She jumped a little when Duncan bit her lower lip a couple of times, and she pinched his side as punishment. He merely chuckled on her lips, making her feel his hot breath inside of her mouth. His kisses right now were incredibly eager, filled with raging hormones. His hands were caressing her everywhere.

She pushed him away from her, holding him arm's length. She bent down, panting. She tried to assuage _her _hyper hormones inside of her. She didn't want to go that far outside _in public_.

"Someone's a little eager." Duncan whistled lowly. "I was just going to give you kisses that'll make you want more, but _apparently _a little obsessed kisser wanted to go _that _direction."

Courtney let go of him, glaring. "Quit it!" she snapped. She couldn't explain her actions, as well, so she didn't say anything smart—because she didn't know what to say. "I have to go now. So leave and _don't look inside my dresser for my bras_!"

"Darling, you have _got _to stop giving me ideas."

"Darling, _don't _even _think _about it."

He smirked and pecked her lips before leaving casually.

A smile formed on Courtney's swollen lips. She grabbed the keys from her pocket and held onto the door. The door swung open, making her extremely bewildered.

She wondered if Miranda was here, but she always locked the door if she was alone. Jill never came to the building unless she had to or if she was ordered to come. The only person who had the keys was—

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, _she said angrily in her mind. She went inside, slamming the door close. She didn't care if she was heard. She bounded up the stairs quickly and went down the hall. She saw two bodyguards on either side of the door, stiff as a pole. They looked at her briefly. One of them opened the door for her, remaining as stoic as ever. She glared at them and stomped inside.

Two more bodyguards were near her office desk. The person sitting on her chair—she was going to burn that chair afterwards—was none other than the vulgar Mr. Banks. He was smiling at her with that cold face of his. His hands were clasped in front of him, on top of some papers.

"I've been waiting, Courtney darling," he announced, giving her that sinister smile.

_Only Duncan can call me "darling," you damn psycho. _"What the hell are you doing here?" Usually, she would put on that fake front, acting all polite and nice, but she couldn't do it. His face looked smug…as if he knew something that could ruin her greatly.

"That's a feisty tongue you got there. It's kind of endearing." He leaned forward a bit. "Were you with that, ah, _boyfriend _of yours, _Duncan_?"

She continued glaring icily at him.

"Huh. Well, I saw him walking towards your car with such a joyful smile. You guys must've had the time of your life this morning. Well, we should get on-topic, right? I can hear your patience growing thin."

Courtney almost forgot about that little game of his. So many distractions, good ones, were happening to her, and she couldn't believe she let herself relax.

"I have somewhere to go to, so I'll just say it straight out, all right?" Mr. Banks kept that smile of his on. "I was looking through your clients' files, and I saw the name 'Duncan Riley Taylor,' along with a picture of him." He picked up the paper on the desk. "'Having problems with his girlfriend' was what you scratched out. Underneath it, you wrote, 'Trust issues, concerning the past; need to dig deeper into that.' You're doing your job well—if you weren't having an immature affair with this Duncan."

"We're not having an _affair_," Courtney sneered at him. "We're not even together."

"Oh? Then what's _this_?" He took out something from a manila envelope and showed it to her.

It was a picture of Courtney and Duncan kissing in her office. Courtney gasped slightly, recognizing that time; it was when she made a sudden move on him. Security cameras weren't installed in her office for confidential reasons. Mr. Banks must've done that without her knowing.

She didn't say anything, didn't even make a single sound. Her mouth was sealed tightly with nails, forbidding her to do anything except stare in utter shock. She was clearly busted.

There was no way out.

"I forgot to tell you that I had some of my men install some security cameras. Hope you don't mind," Mr. Banks said; his tone was as if he was saying he borrowed some books from her without her permission. "I saw some _very interesting _footage, but I just took a little snapshot of a scene that surprised me quite a bit. My, my, Courtney—you little _liar_."

She clenched and unclenched her fists repeatedly, slowly. She still couldn't find a single way out of this. He had evidence, evidence she couldn't deny about. The security cameras installed must be state-of-the-art considering how rich Mr. Banks was. She hoped that didn't include clear audio.

"So what are the problems bothering Mr. Taylor?" Mr. Banks inquired, staring at the photo.

She gritted her teeth. "That's _confidential_," she replied coldly.

"So _that's _the only thing you're following? _That's _the only rule you're abiding by? I must say, Courtney—you are so pathetic!" He threw the photo to the ground. It landed in front of Courtney's feet. "How _childish _can you get? Are you that _desperate_ as to have physical activities with _your client_? A client with petty problems? Are you that unattractive that you can only catch the attention of an ex-delinquent? What is _with you_? From day one—_day one!_—I told you the rules and the regulations! You even wrote them down in that little PDA of yours. I thought you were something special; I thought you were someone worth keeping. I was quite attracted to you, you know."

_Talk about revolting, _Courtney thought, grimacing.

"Then when this—this _piece of trash _comes barging in, all of your obedience just immediately vanished! Have you been even focusing on your other clients?"

"Of course I have! I just focused slightly more with the ones who need more guidance!" She felt weak. She didn't know what to do. She was angry at herself, for being so _hopeless_.

"Oh, you gave him _guidance_ all right." His upper lip curled slightly. "You are trash, Courtney. You are _despicable_! I loathe rule-breakers, _traitors_, with every fiber of my entire being. You are just like my first wife—a _traitor_! It's a good thing she died of drug overuse. Or did she?" His smile turned maniacal.

He was actually bringing in his passed wife into this, comparing Courtney with her. That smile of his explained everything—he needed to be locked up forever in a mental institution. He killed his own wife. Courtney could see it in his evil eyes.

She wasn't scared, though. She could easily bring him down, as well as his bodyguards. She couldn't use violence right now, for the security cameras might be still installed in here. He possibly knew that she would resort to violence. The cameras would catch it clearly in high quality, blackmailing Courtney. She wasn't stupid.

"I don't want to see your face anymore. I don't want to—"

"So what then?" Courtney shouted. "Your hatred for your _fucking dead wife _is getting in the way of business, you know. Stop passing on that hatred to _me_! Don't confuse yourself with your personal problems and business, _sir_."

He glared daggers at her. "What I'm trying to say is—," he started calmly.

"Oh, just _what _are you trying to _say_? I would be _delighted _to know."

He stood up from the chair roughly; the impact made the chair hit the wall from behind loudly. He slammed his hands on the desk, turning red as ever.

"YOU'RE FIRED!"

_Oh, fuck you._

_

* * *

_

**TBC.**

**[Wasn't sure if I liked this chapter or not.**

**Sorry for the _long, long, long _delay, people. I finally managed to finish it while I had some short, free time.**

**Hey, wanna know something?**

**Drew Roy totally reminds me of Duncan; he could play him well since I've seen him play roles of bad boys. I'm not sure about his physique, but whatever. He matches it. Maybe even a Mohawk will match him. xD He's not really known much, though.**

**As for Courtney, Anna Kendrick—known for her role as Jessica Stanley in _Twilight_—could play her. I heard Anna sing, and she can pass for Courtney's voice. She's already a brunette, but her skin isn't tan. She's also a fairly good actress.**

**Jamie Chung could be Heather; Amanda Seyfriend could be Lindsay (if you've seen her in _Mean Girls_).**

**These are just my opinions for some of them—if they ever made a Total Drama Island movie.]**


	18. eighteen

Duncan stared at Courtney from the corner of his eye. Her face looked extremely seething, and he didn't want to do anything that might set off the ready-to-explode bomb within her. He didn't want to feel any physical pain right now.

He was already at Courtney's house when she suddenly called his phone. He wasn't even inside the house yet, and she wanted him to pick her up already. Her voice sounded serious and angry, so he complied obediently. When he arrived at the building, she was sitting on the steps in front of the entrance door, scowling like crazy. She was oozing out rage.

He couldn't think of anything that must've made her so enraged, so he decided to risk his life and break the silence.

"What happened?"

Courtney screamed out a string of profanities, making Duncan raise an eyebrow. He listened to her repeat said curse words over and over again. She punched the dashboard a couple of times and banged her head on the headrest a lot. Ending her little tirade, she slammed her fist on the window and put it down. She placed her forehead on Duncan's shoulder.

He was impressed to know that even Courtney had the most vulgar mouth other than him himself. She did curse a lot, but he never heard her go to the extreme like earlier. He couldn't imagine—didn't _want _to imagine—how the dashboard, headrest, and the window felt like right now. If they were human, they'd be covered with bruises or tortured with broken bones.

Duncan parked her car in front of the house. He put his arm around Courtney, massaging her tense back. She relaxed under his touch a bit, but he felt like his soothing touches weren't enough for her. She had the hottest temper that could even be on par with the famous rage-a-holic Eva back in high school.

"That bastard, Banks," Courtney mumbled darkly. "He fired me."

Duncan was taken aback. That was impossible. Courtney did her job perfectly. She loved her job, too. He couldn't understand why that Mr. Banks would fire such a great therapist. He was insane to even do such a thing.

"What the hell? Why?" he inquired, feeling angry towards the old man.

She didn't answer him.

"_Why, Courtney?"_

Then it hit him.

He must've found out about his intimate times with Courtney. Therapists and clients weren't allowed to have any relationship that involved anything physical and friendly. Banks would've let it slide if they were friends—which they were, but Duncan was kind of confused about his relationship with Courtney—but he probably didn't approve of this.

He felt like it was his fault since he always taunted Courtney and seduced her. She allowed it, but still—he was at fault.

He sighed heavily, still massaging her back with his right hand. He felt like a pitiable idiot for actually going that far with her. He was the one who made her willingly break the rules, _influenced _her. Courtney loved her job even though she didn't show it that much. He couldn't _believe _that he took away the one job that she loved doing even if it stressed her out to the max. He played around with her too much, depended on her too much, and messed everything up too much. He was tired of being an immature person now.

He needed to do _at least _one thing right; he was smart enough and sane enough to at least do that.

"Want me to beat him up?" Duncan proposed.

It was the best he could come up with.

Courtney laughed quietly, making Duncan relax a little. "I _desperately _wanted to do that back there, but I didn't want to deal with any law cases right now," she mumbled. "Apparently he installed security cameras in my office without my knowing. There's a reason why we don't allow security cameras in our offices—for confidential reasons! He practically broke the rule there! Ugh, that mother—"

He stopped listening to her once she started her ranting filled with extreme vulgarity. It wasn't because he had too much profanity for his head, but it was because guilt began to overwhelm his entire being so much, it was aching to explode. He caused this. _He caused this. _

_When will I ever stop causing shit to other people? What the hell's the matter with me…?_

After about forty-five minutes of calming the _ex_-therapist, they both got out of the car. Duncan fished around his pocket for the house keys and gave it to Courtney, who took it from him. They both walked to the front door. She faced him.

"Are you going to come inside?" she asked. "You can if you want to."

Oh, he wanted to. "No thanks, Courtney," he replied. "I have to go do something, anyway."

"Errands?"

"No, I'm gonna knock a girl up."

"Oh, keep your juvenile remarks to someone worthwhile."

She was back to the way she was. He liked that. It was times like these when Duncan wished their regular moments together were forever. He didn't want anyone to interrupt them or even try to break them apart. He wished it was that easy.

But his life was _never _easy.

"I'll see you then," Courtney said, smiling slightly.

Duncan almost smirked. He knew she wanted a kiss from him. But he was tired of playing around with her. Courtney wasn't his girlfriend, and he should stop treating her like she was his.

What _was _their relationship? He didn't know. Right now, thinking about trivial things like this was a total waste of time. Courtney got fired. He had to stop being such an immature punk and at least grow up a bit. It was time to actually do the _right _thing, the _mature _thing.

He merely nodded at her and walked away, hands in his pockets. They turned into tight fists as he kept on walking. He didn't know where he was going, but he just needed time to think.

So many desires filled through him all directed towards a certain princess. He was being so self-centered, always trying to make Courtney admit that she liked him when those issues usually took quite a lot of time. Something like that could just be pushed to the sidelines for a while. He could deal with it later on, because he had loads of time.

_What am I supposed to _do_? This is Courtney's problem, but I promised Bridgette and I _do _want to help Courtney. Damn it. This is what I get for not planning things correctly. Ugh…_

Duncan's eyes caught sight of someone running fast, dressed in professional-looking attire. He thought it was Courtney at first, but he remembered that she was fired, and she had no reason to even wear something like that—which kind of made him wince, because that was his fault.

It was Bridgette.

She almost ran past him when Duncan grabbed her arm quickly. She whipped her head towards him, hair messed up everywhere.

"Oh. Duncan," Bridgette mumbled to herself. She pried her arm out of his hand and started fixing her messy hair. She took out the hair tie out, making her hair fall out into waves since it was in a tight bun. She dipped her head down suddenly, making Duncan jump back, and shook her hair. She stood upright and quickly tied her hair to her usual ponytail style.

"Well, all right," Duncan said, smirking.

She laughed. "Sorry about that. I was…meeting with a parent. You see, I'm a helper at a pre-school just in case you didn't know."

He looked down at her wardrobe again. "And…you're wearing _that_? Isn't that a little _too professional _for a simple meeting?"

She played with the hem of her buttoned-up shirt a bit. "I know, but…I'm still getting used to the job; and I don't know what to do right now." She cleared her throat. "So, uh, how are you?"

Duncan didn't know if he should tell Bridgette that Courtney got fired. He knew Courtney would get angry at him for saying something he shouldn't say, but she'd forgive him, anyway. Besides, Bridgette was Courtney's special best friend—she had to know.

So he told her. He watched as her face changed expressions: from anger, to sadness, worry, and concern. She walked over to a bench in front of a flower shop and placed her elbows on her thighs, putting her head in her hands. She muttered things to herself.

He took a seat next to her and watched people walk by, too busy with themselves to worry about things that matter the most. He glared at those who looked at Bridgette with a confused look. He wanted them to stay in their little world and mind their own business.

"I know what I'm going to do, Duncan," Bridgette whispered. "I'm tired of not helping her. You're always doing all the work, being the badass knight-in-shining-armor. It's my turn. All this crap that's happening to her…she doesn't deserve. Courtney's better than that. The past years I've been with her—I've done absolutely _nothing_. I thought doing this…" She trailed off. "Freak, I'm tired of being such a useless friend." She stood up, face filled with determination.

He stood up, too. He grabbed her shoulder, making her turn to him. "What are you talking about? You've done plenty things for her," he disagreed. "You've supported her throughout all the years you guys have been together. Hell, you actually handled her crazy _personality _during _all of those years_."

She shook her head and ran.

**. . .**

Duncan woke up to the sound of some keys falling on the ground and muttered curses. He opened one eye and saw Geoff picking up the keys with grumpy face planted on. He ignored his friend and closed his eye, continuing his relaxation.

He knew he couldn't relax at a time like this, but he needed some energy to think anyway. Thinking with an exhausted brain wasn't a good idea, and he didn't want to have some headaches. And if those headaches didn't go away, he most certainly _did not _want to go take a little torture-filled trip to the dreaded hospital.

He heard Geoff gasp, and so he assumed that Geoff found him.

"Whoa, brah," the crazed party-lover announced, "you could've at least _said something_ so I wouldn't shit my pants."

Duncan opened his eyes, grimacing heavily. "Dude, that's fucking _sick_!" he snapped.

Geoff held up his hands. "Chill, chill! I was kidding! It was…like an expression or something like that." He stared at him for a moment. "Why are you so…snappy?"

Duncan groaned. "I don't wanna talk about it."

He heard Geoff mutter something unintelligible and sigh. He watched his friend take off his jacket, dumping it on the recliner near the coffee table. He took a seat near Duncan's feet, leaned back, placing his arms behind his head. He looked like he was troubled about something.

"What's wrong, man?"

"Nah, it's nothing." Geoff smiled a little; it looked rather shamefaced as if he did something wrong. "I'm just tired and overwhelmed by work, I guess."

"Whatever you say."

Geoff eventually left the living room and headed off to his bedroom.

Duncan didn't want to press into it, because it probably didn't concern him. Geoff would tell him later on since he usually did that. And besides, Duncan needed some space, too—he didn't have the time to console his friend about such trivial matters.

Courtney was his number one priority right now.

Since his knowledge towards the business industry was slightly dull, he was stuck in a hole. Courtney _obviously _didn't want any help and didn't want to deal with the matter yet, because she was still coping with it—and by coping, she was probably destroying her house now. He couldn't ask Geoff for help, because he had problems himself. Bridgette was most likely doing her own thing.

He groaned and stared at the ceiling.

He should just support Courtney from the side. He didn't have any idea on what she was going to do from now on. She didn't have a job, but she could easily get back up and find a job that could possibly make her even more successful. So her finding a new job wasn't exactly the problem at hand. He would just be there as a friend.

As a friend.

As a _friend_.

_As a friend._

It bothered him a lot, knowing that he absolutely, _positively_ couldn't be with her. He wanted her; she wanted him. The sentence seemed _too _easy, and yet, if you looked further into it, seeing all their history together, it just wouldn't work well. Sure they would have the time of their lives together, but, for some reason, Duncan wouldn't be a good boyfriend.

Courtney had goals. She was still young, her being twenty and all. She was still planning her future even though she already got it—which was taken away from her. She didn't need to be with a guy like him, who didn't even _know _his plans for his supposed future. He never really thought about it much, and right now, he didn't want to think about it. He also didn't want to be in the way of her plans.

They had different destinations, different futures. Their roads wouldn't intersect properly; it was a opposite directions for both of them.

It hurt. It really hurt. Duncan could just forget about the obvious problems and try to have a good life with Courtney—but that would be an irrational decision. As time would go by, they would ultimately get in fights concerning more adult situations.

He sighed.

His phone rang. He grumbled to himself, took out his phone from his pocket, and answered it.

"Yeah?"

"It's Bridgette," Courtney gasped.

**TBC.**

* * *

**[Sorry it's so short, and sorry I took so long. I'm having some trouble with this story and school's getting to me a lot. **

**There will be about one or two chapters left for this story, and then it's **_**sayonara**_**, people.]**


	19. nineteen

As soon as Courtney saw Duncan, she immediately ran into his arms. Without permission, tears flowed down her mocha cheeks, dissolving into his black shirt. She felt protected within his arms—his strong, warm arms—and it could serve as her little haven. Her arms squeezed him more, trying to get close to him as possible.

She needed him. He knew—she was sure of that. When she had called him informing him about Bridgette, she could hear those three words echoing beneath her panic-stricken tone:

"_I need you…"_

She didn't bother hiding her tone which was filled with fright and concern for her best friend. It was fruitless since she had gallons of anxiety inside of her filled to the brim. If she even tried to conceal it, it would instantaneously explode everywhere. And besides, she just didn't care about that.

The ex-therapist tried to focus on Duncan's warm hands rubbing the small of her back pacifyingly. Her thoughts kept wandering about towards a certain blonde, though.

"She's resting, just so you know," Courtney informed him so quietly even she couldn't hear herself.

He didn't reply.

"And you want to know what brought her to this place? My jackass of an ex-boss, that's who," she continued on, anger wrapped around her words. "He—dammit, that ass—he was the cause of…"

No reply.

She looked up at him. He was staring at the ground, still rubbing her back. His eyes were unfocused; he was plainly contemplating on something.

"Why aren't you saying anything? Why aren't you asking any questions? Why are you so…silent?"

"I'm here to comfort you, and that's what I'm doing," he replied.

Yes, that was what he was here for. Although Duncan was also a friend of Bridgette's, he was primarily here to give some sort of comfort to Courtney.

The two strolled over to the waiting room where a small TV was showing the news. Courtney kept her head on Duncan's shoulder while Duncan had one arm wrapped around her body, hand rubbing her forearm. She watched TV with a blank expression, not even paying attention to what was being said. All she could think of was Bridgette.

What had happened? The doctor had contacted Courtney since she was listed as one of the family members. Bridgette's family was somewhere on the other side of Canada, so they were out of the list. The doctor didn't tell her anything other than the fact that Bridgette was currently in the hospital resting. He, Dr. Wesley, had said that they would do some interrogations with her when she wakes up and recovers. But he had also said that when Bridgette was brought to the hospital she was unconscious.

_Unconscious… Just where _were _you, Bridge? _Courtney wondered, biting her lip hard.

Hours and hours passed. Courtney's eyelids were dropping quite a bit, and she heard no information whatsoever regarding Bridgette's current state. Duncan was lying on her side, sleeping like a baby; he had been sleeping for about two hours already. Courtney wanted to sleep, but her nerves were muddled up and her mind was wide-awake. She kept her dark tired eyes focused on the TV screen.

"_This just in, a high-status law firm and therapy profession owner, William Banks, was just recently arrested for attempted murder. The victim's name is Bridgette Travers, who is currently being hospitalized. An interview with a witness will be shown shortly."_

Courtney could feel her eyes popping out of their sockets by now. She didn't know it would appear on the news already, but then that was the media.

"_So, what did you hear that made you call 911, Miss Peters?" the reporter asked._

_The old lady, Miss Peters, sighed, shaking her head. "Well, I was just cleaning, minding my own business. I work as a maid in the hotel, and I started hearing noises in the room next door. I thought it was just some people causing a ruckus or doing God-knows-what. But then, I started to hear something unusual, like a—like a _whimpering _sound, you know? It was scaring me, so I went down to the front desk and called 911 and told them what's happening. They came, and I saw that famous man—I think his name is something with 'Banks'—handcuffed. They had an ambulance outside and brought this blonde girl on a stretcher; she was unconscious, though. I felt so sorry. I should've called sooner. I just hope that girl is okay," she finished, having a concerned and guilty look._

Courtney felt tears poking out from the corners of her eyes, sliding down gradually, bit by bit. She let them pour down. _Bridgette…_

"_Apparently Banks doesn't have anything—"_

She stopped listening. _How could have Bridgette been a victim of Banks' ruthless actions? They both never interacted with one another at all. And she isn't the type to be rash with her decisions, so how? How could this have happened?_

A nurse came inside the room, smiling warmly. She looked at Courtney. "Are you Courtney Neville?" she inquired politely.

Courtney sat up quickly, though she couldn't sit up fully since Duncan was sleeping on her arm. "Yes," she replied, "yes, I am. Why? Is Bridgette awake?"

The nurse nodded. "Miss Travers is awake, ma'am. Would you like to come and see her? The young man may come if he wants to." She motioned towards the sleeping man next to her.

"Um…" Courtney didn't want to disturb him, because he was sleeping well. But he did say to wake him up when Bridgette woke up just so he could see her, as well. She nudged him with her arm. "Wake up, Duncan."

He groaned and moved around, getting comfortable.

She faced the nurse, whose smile never wavered. "Her room is 215 B, all right?" The nurse left.

Courtney sighed exasperatedly and nudged him more. "Duncan!" she hissed. "Wake up!"

"Shut up," was his incoherent reply.

She pushed him off of her. "Ugh, wake the hell up!" She kept her voice low and even. She didn't want to cause a scene, especially with him.

Duncan's eyes snapped open. He glared at her. "What?" he spat.

She was taken aback slightly. She wasn't used to his hostile tongue. He hadn't spoken like that to her in a long time—only the time back then when they weren't exactly on good terms with each other. But she refused to be intimidated by his cranky attitude. _He _was the one who told her to wake him up, so she was doing it. The least he could do was wake up and thank her.

"Bridgette's awake, moron," Courtney said, glaring. "And it took you a long time to wake up yourself. Jeez, show a little gratitude."

He rolled his eyes and stood up. "I'm a pissed off dude when I don't get enough sleep." He stretched his arms, yawning.

"Aren't we all?"

They departed off towards Bridgette's room as quickly as possible. As soon as they arrived, they saw police officers, nurses, and Dr. Wesley crowded in her room. They all looked up when they went inside.

The man talking to Bridgette cleared his throat and appraised the two with a stoic expression. "Are you a relative of, Miss Travers?" he asked firmly.

Courtney shook her head. "No, I'm not, officer."

Bridgette smiled at her tiredly. "But she's listed as one of them in my emergency contact list," she assured the man. "Courtney, Duncan, why don't you guys take a seat over there while Officer Taylor asks me some questions."

Feeling the professional air and seriousness in the room, Courtney quickly acquiesced, pulling a rather reluctant and agitated-seeming Duncan with her. There was only one chair, so she had to sit on his lap. She stayed silent.

Dr. Wesley let out a deep breath. "Officer Taylor, I don't feel comfortable with you suddenly asking Miss Travers questions when she just woke up," he told him. "Could this wait? She needs her rest."

The officer held up a hand at the doctor. "I understand, Dr. Wesley, but Miss Travers said so herself that I can do some interrogating. Just a couple of questions, and Officer Martin and I will get goin'." He directed her attention to Bridgette. "Now, Miss…"

After a couple of questions, Officer Taylor was done. He shook hands with the doctor and thanked everyone. Before he left, however, he looked at Courtney and Duncan.

"You have a good night, Miss," he said nicely. His blue eyes glanced towards Duncan. "And you, too…Duncan."

Courtney furrowed her eyebrows. _He knows Duncan? _

She felt Duncan nod. "Ditto, Caleb," he answered. His tone was evenly forced and had a hint of bitterness in it.

The two officers left the room.

Dr. Wesley quickly began his work, asking how Bridgette felt and if she had any pains. He would be doing tests to see what drugs Banks forced upon her or made her drink discreetly, as well as the typical blood test. He wrote down notes on his clipboard, finishing his analysis.

"Some nurses may come in every now and then, Miss Travers, but as of now, you should rest," Dr. Wesley. "You mustn't tire your brain out, especially when it just suffered a traumatic experience—your body, too. Rest is what you need. Take care of other matters later on, you have plenty of time."

Bridgette gave a wide stare to Courtney. "But, Dr. Wesley, I have to talk with—," she started protesting.

"No, Miss Travers." He smiled gently and joked, "Doctor's orders."

The blonde sighed and smiled apologetically at the brunette, who was feeling irritated with the doctor. The officers and the doctor himself had their fair share of her best friend concerning conversations and whatnot—why couldn't she? Why did the best friend, the main person in Bridgette's life, have to wait?

But Courtney knew that Bridgette needed her rest, so she couldn't do a thing about it. They had a lot of time, anyway. They had a lot of time to discuss and answer some questions that needed special attention.

When they went outside, the same nurse approached Courtney. She was holding an envelope. She smiled warmly to the both of them and held it out.

"When Miss Travers was here earlier, before you came, she was awake. Weak but okay. She asked me for a pen and paper. I told her she had to rest, but she was being stubborn and desperate. Dr. Wesley ordered me to give her a pen and paper just to calm her down." The nurse gave the envelope to Courtney. "I believe she told me to give it to you, this envelope. Apparently she thought that she was dying and that envelope is something of huge importance to her and to you, especially. So…please read it—for Miss Bridgette's sake, not mine. I have a feeling that it's has something special inside." She nodded and left, her little feet carrying her to her destination.

Duncan took a peek at the envelope. "Is it a letter or something?" he asked.

Courtney inspected it closely. "I think so…," she murmured, a sense of dread building up in her.

**. . .**

When Courtney went home, she opened the envelope. It was a letter. Quickly, she read it, feeling apprehensive.

_Dear Courtney,_

_I bet something happened to me, right? No doubt Mr. Banks was behind all of this._

_But enough with the trivial matters. I know there are a lot of unanswered questions stuck inside your already stressed out mind._

_To be honest, I was suffering—not only financially but also emotionally. Yes, I had trouble with some money. Nowadays people don't like to surf as much, especially with the weather and lack of awesome waves. Do you remember the candy store I worked in? Well, I didn't lose the job; I quit it. I was getting sexually harassed by two of my co-workers. It started off as harmless flirting, you know, nothing major. And then the guys started to touch me. I did the right thing: I told my manager and quit. Even though I needed the money and loved that job to death, I couldn't stand working with those asses. I think my manager fired them and reported them or something._

_A couple of weeks after I lost that job, my manager called me up. She said that there was a job opening. Someone needed a secretary. Now that job was more of your style, but hey, I needed the money and I've got some experience in the office, sort of. They didn't say who the person was, though._

_When I arrived at the building, dressed up all fancy, I was shocked to find out that it was the famous Mr. Banks, your ugly boss. I understood why they didn't say who the person was, because of course a pandemonium would arise. People would be literally begging on their knees to work for him. _

_I did my interview with some people of his. The final part of the interview was with Banks. He seemed nice, nothing like how you described him. He, in a way, reminded me of my grandpa because of how affectionate and caring he was. He was firm about his work, I could clearly see that. And I was okay with that. Right then and there, I got the job. He just picked me. _

_Yeah, I told you that I worked at a nearby pre-school, but I only said that because I knew you would throw a huge fit over the fact that I work under your crazy boss. I kept quiet and just lied to you. Sorry for that, Court._

_He really was nice to me. He treated me with respect and complimented me a lot, especially about my hair and eyes. He even rose up my pay. It was kind of nice of him, really. _

_Then he started to be all forward. When I'm in my mini office, he would come in and praise me, but he would stroke my fingers softly. I always pulled back. Day after day, it got worse and worse. He would comb his fingers through my air. He even smelled it! He freaking smelled it! He'd bend down and start whispering how beautiful I was and how great I was. He tried to kiss my neck and do stuff._

_I tried to fight back, but I didn't try too hard. He was my boss, after all. I didn't want him to fire me or lower my pay. I was desperate, man. But it just got scarier and scarier and I was like becoming paranoid! In my office, I would bring my co-worker in with me and chat with her just so he couldn't come in. That doesn't stop him, though, because he would yell at my co-worker to leave and just start all over again! Touching me and touching me, trying to kiss me. I would always pull back._

_When I heard that he fired you and everything else, I was beyond pissed. The anger I felt towards him about what he did to me added on to that. I went over to his hotel room and started screaming like hell at him. He was surprised, and I was lucky enough to know that his bodyguards weren't there. Surprise, eh? So yeah, I yelled at him. He tried to grab me and kiss me again and again. I fought back at him, and it wasn't hard considering how old and feeble he was. Then he started to look all weak and collapsed on a chair. He kept muttering to himself, talking about how I looked so much like his first wife. He told me to grab the glass of water on the table, and since that stupid nice side of me came out, I did. As I was about to give to him, he grabbed it from me and forced me to swallow it. I tried to resist, but some of it went inside my mouth. I pushed him away. Then I started feeling woozy. I screamed and screamed until I was too weak. All I could remember was falling._

_So, my dear best friend, this letter could be depicted in any way you want it to. If I died, it's my last memory for you of me. If I'm hospitalized somewhere, which I doubt, this will answer all your questions. I know you're such an impatient chick, so this could serve as the solution to all those questions, right?_

_I love you, Courtney. I do. I didn't tell you any of this, because I didn't want to add on to your worries. You have tons and tons of them. I don't want you to have another trip to the hospital._

_Again, I freaking love you. You're my best friend, my SISTER! And I hope things go entirely well with you and Duncan. You're in love with him, I swear to you. And he's in love with you, too. He is. _

_Follow your heart,_

_Bridgette_

Salty liquid was pouring like a waterfall of sadness down her mocha cheeks. An unintentional sob came out of her mouth. Soon she started crying hard, clutching the now tear-stained letter to her heart.

She was blind. She was unaware. She was too busy worrying over her problems she failed to notice how Bridgette was suffering, as well. She knew she was, but from all those times the blonde pushed away all the help, Courtney partially thought she was okay. And so her situations regarding her conflict with her ex-boss came about, and she didn't pay close attention to her dear friend.

She felt selfish. She felt ashamed. She felt all negative emotions at one. But for once, anger wasn't the main emotion. It was just pure, pure…sadness.

She wiped off the tears from her face quickly. She ran to the table where her car keys were and grabbed them, running out. Along the way, she took her coat from the coat hanger, hearing it fall, and burst out the door. She locked it, cursing a lot when she put on the wrong key. Hearing the _click_, she sighed in satisfaction and ran to her car.

As she drove, she tried to keep herself calm. Bundled nerves weren't a good feeling once you're on the road. She couldn't afford to have a car accident. She drove faster, carefully maneuvering around the other vehicles.

She reached the hospital in due time. She parked her car, cut off the engine, and got out with great speed. She put her coat on when she realized she didn't and ran to the entrance as fast as her wedges could. She entered the building, yelling out apologies when she bumped into someone. Finally, she reached the front desk.

Panting heavily, she said, "I-I'm—" She stopped and groaned. She bent down, hands on knees, and took slow breaths. She waited until her heart was calm. She stood up and flashed an apologetic smile. "I'm Bridgette Travers's best friend, though listed as one of her family members. May I go and see her, please?"

The nurse on the chair rolled over to the computer and typed. His eyes searched the screen. He went back to Courtney and took out a clipboard. He pointed to the empty slot with a pen held out.

"Sign here, please…Miss Neville, right?"

She nodded and took the pen, signing. She gave it back.

He got a laminated pass that said "VISITOR'S PASS" which she took. He smiled and gestured for her to go.

"Room 215 B."

"Yes, I know, thank you."

Courtney walked fast through the hallways and saw the room. She opened the door gently, poking her head in.

She saw Bridgette, awake. She was currently watching TV relaxingly. She looked refreshed and as beautiful as ever. She didn't look tired like yesterday. Her olive eyes saw Courtney and lightened up along with a smile.

"Courtney!" she exclaimed. She smiled sheepishly. "I'd, uh, run and hug you, but then considering my state…I can't."

The mocha-haired woman smiled back and shut the door. She grabbed the chair and brought it over next to Bridgette's bed. She sat down, exhaling.

"You are an idiot, Bridge," Courtney announced dramatically.

Bridgette laughed, eyes sparkling. "So I've been told." She hesitated. "So…so you read the letter, huh?"

"I read it, word for word. Why did you doubt that you were going to live?"

The blonde smiled sadly now. "I don't know. I just didn't think I would live anymore, but here I am, _breathing_. I'm not sad that I'm not dead, but I…well, I don't know, Court. Honestly, I wasn't thinking properly."

Courtney scowled. "Like you usually do. Seriously, you had me worried to _death_! You do know that you're already risking your life by working under that fucking asshole!" She was turning red. "Ugh, you are so irresponsible, Bridgette! You really could've died! You could've!"

The other girl wasn't fazed. "I'm alive, as you can see." She leaned forward and grabbed Courtney's hand. "That's all that matters now, 'kay?"

"…An idiot, I swear."

The surfer laughed. She held out her arms. "I want a hug from my best friend."

Smiling, Courtney hugged her. Tears were threatening to come down, but she remained strong. She didn't feel like crying. She wanted to just be with her best friend and have a good time with her.

Something caught her eye.

She pulled away, eyes not straying from the object. She pointed to it.

"Bridgette…who gave you those flowers?" Courtney questioned. It couldn't have been Duncan; he wasn't that much of a romantic guy—nor would he ever be.

A look came upon her face that Courtney couldn't decipher. Bridgette glanced at the flowers and glanced away.

"From…a…friend," she mumbled. Then she sighed. "It was from Geoff."

Courtney remembered her dating him back in high school. He was a loud guy who loved to party. He was nice and always hyper. It was hard for him and Bridgette to date because of the distance between schools, though they managed. Courtney didn't hate him, but she didn't like him. He was _okay_, and he made Bridgette happy—until they had to break up for unknown reasons.

"He's here?"

"Yeah. Shocking, I know. He's a party planner somewhere in California. He's here for business and is visiting some old friend of his." She rubbed her arm unconsciously. "I haven't seen him in _forever_. It's been—wow, he's changed…"

"Was he the one who kept you from going to college?"

She was silent for a moment.

"You could say that," the blonde finally said with a grave look. Then she brightened up. "But I shouldn't think about him. The past is the past. He just stopped by to talk and see how I was, 'cause he heard my name on the news and everything else."

Courtney, knowing the "Geoff subject" was sensitive, changed the subject. "I am _not _in love with Duncan," she stated firmly. "I'm not."

Bridgette smiled knowingly. "Uh-huh, _sure_. And I'm a brunette."

"You could've just dyed your hair."

"You could be _hiding _behind your little denial."

The two best friends spent quality time together, the air light and filled with smiles. Courtney was glad to know that her best friend was all right now. She made sure she wouldn't be so reckless with Bridgette's problems. And if she sensed that Bridgette wanted help, she would immediately help her, no questions asked.

Courtney continued talking about their fun-filled memories back then, hand clutched on her best friend's hand tightly. She wouldn't let go.

**TBC.

* * *

**

**[Just one more chapter, guys. :(**

**And this might seem like I rushed through this, so…yeah, sorry.**

**Oh, Christmas—you're almost there.]**


	20. twenty

**Note: this chapter is in both **_**Duncan**_** and **_**Courtney's**_** point of view.

* * *

**

Duncan clapped Geoff's back in a manly affectionate kind of way.

"Have fun in Cali, man," he said, smiling slightly.

The blonde man smiled back, pulling up the handles of his luggage. He bumped fists with the other and clapped his back, as well.

"Live a good life, Duncan." He sighed wistfully and started walking to the door where that led to the airplane.

Duncan, honestly and without a _doubt_, would miss Geoff. Even though it sounded terribly unmanly, he would miss him. Lately, Geoff was the only sane person in his life and the only person that actually made him think that life was worth it. While the ex-delinquent was crammed with so much stress and problems, Geoff was there—totally unaware of what was going on with Duncan—and cheered him up no matter what. He was a true pal, always there, never nosy, and was just plain loyal. No wonder he was the only popular guy he came to like back in high school.

Geoff was about to give his ticket to the lady when he stopped. He looked back. Duncan could see spots of regret and sadness hidden in those blue eyes. He grinned.

"Tell Bridgette to take care, Duncan!" he yelled out. He apologized to the lady, grabbed his luggage, and went inside, speed fast.

_What?_

Unibrow furrowed, Duncan wondered how Geoff knew Bridgette. He didn't know that. Geoff never told him. _Bridgette _never told him. Did they have a _thing _with each other back then? It was impossible, though—Duncan never knew her back then; they went to different high schools most likely. Geoff would've told him…

_It's probably some personal shit between them_, he thought, rubbing the back of his head roughly.

He took out his phone and was about to dial a certain ex-therapist's number. He paused. He shoved the phone back inside his pocket and mumbled to himself. He shouldn't call her.

But then he took the phone out again and dialed someone else's number. The phone rang and rang and rang. Finally, someone answered.

"What?"

"Nice to hear your voice too, Gwen."

**. . .**

Duncan grimaced at the sign of the coffee shop. It was the place where people went up on stage and groaned on about poetry and sadness. They wore dark clothing and had this grave expression on their faces to "match the mood," apparently. People snapped their fingers—which Duncan never comprehended.

The last time he went there was _the last_. Gwen had forced him to go sometime during their high school days. It was _horrible_ and incredibly _boring_.

He sucked it in and opened the door, hearing the jangling of the bells.

The room was dim. The atmosphere yelled out mellowness, angst—a _lot _of it—and everything and anything; but the "everything and anything" was all related to a certain kind of "woe." There were a couple of customers scattered about the room. A barista was behind a mini bar, wiping the counter. Thankfully, no one was on stage.

He spotted Gwen all huddled up on the corner in solitude. She was practically isolated from the other customers. She was sipping her latte bit by bit, dark eyes staring out at the tinted window. Then, she saw him and gestured for him to come and sit down in front of her.

He put his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling all cold. He obliged quietly and took a seat in front of his supposed "ex-girlfriend."

"How've you been, Duncan?" Gwen inquired casually, holding her cup with both hands. "How's Courtney, too?" He could detect a tone of bitterness at her name and ignored it.

"Doin' fine, I guess," he replied. "And Courtney's"—he thought about the stress she was holding on her shoulders—"doin' okay… I haven't spoken to her in a while, 'cause I was spending some time with Geoff."

"Oh. That's right. He's here." She had a strange expression.

"What? Why do you look like that?"

She gulped down the latte. She seemed hesitant to answer. "It's just that—that I—" She broke off, sighing. "Look, I thought that after we broke up you would be staying at Courtney's house. I thought that you'd be canoodling with her. Damn, I can't believe I said _canoodling_."

He chuckled, feeling a bit more comfortable. That was Gwen, able to make you feel comfy with her. "Well, no. I stayed at Geoff's crib for a while." His face slowly turned serious.

Gwen, noticing, smiled. "I guess it's time to talk, huh? You have questions, and I have questions—all that crap."

"Yeah. All that shit."

"I said _crap_."

"Yeah, like it matters." He had a full-blown teasing grin on. He wiped it away once he realized that. "You were cheating on me."

"That's not a question, but…no, I wasn't. Or I _sort of _was." She sipped her latte some more. She looked out the window. "When Trent came back, he called me. And then we started hanging out more and more, because hey, I missed him. We did a lot of stuff together: go to the park and I'll listen to him play guitar, listen to some music that we both actually like, go to this place and listen to poetry; he'll pose and I'll sketch, or we'll have some insane doodle war; and so on and so forth." She suddenly had a soft smile on her pale face. Duncan felt a tinge of jealousy towards Trent.

She continued on, "He told me he was sorry for being gone for so many months. He didn't know that his grandma's condition was that critical. He said he missed me. He even—oh my God, he even—he…asked me out again behind your back." She smiled sheepishly. "But I said no, because…well, of course it was wrong.

"After you and I fought, I went over at his place and literally blew up at him. He merely listened and listened. He was so nice to me… He hugged me, and I started bawling like crazy. And the he kissed me, and I kissed him back. It was so _ama_—" She blushed and cleared her throat.

Duncan didn't want to listen anymore, because it was sickening. He held in his disgust, though.

"A-Anyways, we kissed. We almost went all the way, but then I thought of you and stopped." She gave him a scowl. "I at least thought of you."

He rolled his eyes. "All right, go on."

"Before you came over, before the fight, we had a 'semi-date.' He brought over some wine, and we just hung out. Eventually, we went over to the couch and got into the mood. We made out like hell. And that's where you came in…" She shrugged and finished the last remnants of her latte.

Duncan leaned back against his chair. "So you did cheat on me," he muttered.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You cheated on me, too, Duncan. Don't make it seem like I'm the only one at fault here. So tell me: what's between you and Courtney?"

"Everything. She helped me, I helped her. You didn't help me."

"I was scared! And tired! You never told me _anything_! What was I supposed to do? Keep begging and begging until you tell me? I'm not going to do something as low as that just to help you. In order for me to help you, you fucking jerk, you have to tell me something."

_Courtney said somethin' like that. _"So I'm a fucking jerk now, eh?"

She smirked. "Always have been, always will be."

"What does that make you, then? A bitchy bitch?" He returned the smirk.

"You know that label belongs to the Queen of Sluts, _Heather_."

"And she speaks the truth."

She laughed and so did he. They both bonded, talking about their wacky moments in high school and all the pranks they had done. They reminisced about messing around with the high school dork, Harold, and the high school geek, Cody. They talked about how Geoff yelled out, "Fuck yeah! Freedom _at last_! You go girl! Whoo, whoo!" after their school's valedictorian speech. They just talked about all the fun times they had together.

Although it was like this, Duncan knew it was going to…end. He wanted to be with her, because it was so easy. But she loved someone else now, her first love. And even though Duncan and Gwen had a lot in common, their relationship would soon die out. Somehow, Duncan always knew that that their relationship wouldn't last much longer.

He loved Gwen for her quirkiness, rebelliousness, creativeness, her intuitive mind, and overall her badass personality. She was his best friend besides Geoff. They both thought alike and got along really well.

But…it was over.

Gwen gently placed her hand over his. "I still love you, Duncan," she whispered.

He averted his eyes away from her when she said that. A nasty feeling was crawling up his throat, bugging him. "But it's not the same anymore, Gwen," he answered back just as quiet.

They both stood up. Gwen childishly took out her hand to shake, and he shook it, chuckling a bit. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek softly, breathing in that peppermint smell he would miss. He caressed her cheek, stared into those dark orbs of hers, and left.

No turning back.

**. . .**

Courtney's grip on her _Sidekick _tightened.

"So…you're not together anymore?"

"No, not anymore."

"Why?"

"Because—because he's still obsessed with some other girl." Lindsay paused. "And that girl is you."

The ex-therapist did a spit-take, the smoothie she was drinking spurting out messily. "I _beg _your pardon?" she shouted. "I don't even _know _your boyfriend! Just his name!"

"You don't have to beg anything, Courtney." She sighed from the other side. "He told me that he met you in a club some time ago, and you guys hit it off. I think you were both drunk or whatever. The relationship lasted for, like, a couple of hours until your blondie friend pulled you away. He never saw you since. And _since then _he's been, like, looking for you. I…was just his favorite pastime."

_Tyler? Club? I—oh no, that's right! That guy, drunk, haziness, lips—it all happened! Bridgette told me he was my supposed boyfriend since we were—EW! The first and _only _time I ever went to a club and I had a _boyfriend_! Oh, yuck!_ Courtney screamed internally, panicky. She hoped that he wouldn't know that she was the therapist for Lindsay and she lived in the same city.

"Um, well, Lindsay, all of that was nothing. It didn't mean anything, but if he's that obsessed with me, he isn't worth it. You can't stop it. It would be better, though, if you talked to him properly instead of lashing out at him and overreacting. Sometimes, you can't help being obsessed with someone. Obsession is a powerful and crazy thing." _Let's just hope it's not anything _more_._

"All righty then, Courtney. I miss you! I wish you were still a teacher! That way, I can come over anytime I want and talk about how jerky Tyler is!"

"Lindsay, I'm a therapist—or I _was_…"

"Oh. Right. See ya! Toodles!" She hung up.

Courtney threw her phone on the bed and shuddered. She should be careful whenever she was out in public doing errands.

Speaking of errands, she had to look for a new job. She shouldn't be slacking around, sulking, and wishing death towards a specific ex-boss. Although she had more time with school, she didn't like going home and doing nothing. With Lindsay calling for help—it was a shocker that she actually _remembered _to put Courtney's number in her cellphone—it made Courtney know that she had to take responsibility despite the fact that it wasn't her fault.

She considered finding another place where she could be a therapist. She also considered starting off low like working at a music store. She loved classical music and violins, as well as other instruments. So she could work at an adjacent store. But she dreadfully wanted to be a therapist. She loved that job, she did. And she would suffer without being one.

"Lost, Princess?" a voice she knew so well said from the doorway.

Courtney's head flew towards the voice, and she rolled her eyes. She didn't know that she was staring at her phone for so long.

"Pick-locking is so immature and wrong, Duncan. Who said you can come in, anyway?" She put her hands on either side of her hips.

He raised a pierced eyebrow. "I said." He walked over to her and put his hands on both side of her waist. "What's buggin' you?"

She wondered why he was being so intimate with her. "Nothing," she replied quickly. "Just wondering where I should start off, you know, for my job."

He nodded. "Uh-huh, uh-huh." He bent down and locked lips with hers unexpectedly.

Courtney's eyes widened at the sudden action. She didn't know what the hell was going on with him. He was acting so _forward_, as if he could do whatever he wanted with her. She didn't like that, because it also gave off this feeling that something was going to happen.

Duncan kissed her harder when she didn't respond. She should just kiss back, and they would have a full-on make-session. He wanted to kiss her, because he _needed _to. Her not responding was ruining everything and he himself. He grabbed her arms and roughly placed them around his neck. He pulled her closer until she was squashed to his body.

Once he started kissing her neck, she gasped for breath. "D-D-Duncan!" she breathed. "What the hell are you _doing_? What's going on? What's wrong?"

"What do ya think I'm doin'?" he mumbled against her skin. "I'm kissing you. So shut the hell up and enjoy it while you can."

_While I can? _"Why are you—Something's not right!" She tried pulling away from his iron grip, failing. "Stop it!"

He tightened his hold on her, getting angry with her. He kissed her lips hard and forcibly pushed his tongue through. He just needed her. He needed her. _He needed her._

"Dun—DUNCAN!"

Quickly, he let go of her, holding her shoulders at arms-length. His lips were swollen, and she was sure hers were, too. She felt that hot feeling on it; it was tingling, too.

Courtney glared at him with cloudy eyes, gasping for breath. Her cheeks were flushed. "What in the world were you doing? Huh?" she screamed at him. "You're attacking me like some hormonal _monkey_! Ugh, who gave you the right to—to manhandle me like that? You insensitive Neanderthal!"

He felt a sting of guilt inside of him. _She's right. What the fuck am I doing?_

"My goodness! You're practically sucking the life out of me with that hard kissing! Just what were you thinking? Were you trying to tear off my lips? Ugh, what if—?"

"I talked to Gwen."

"—I didn't stop—What?" Her eyebrows furrowed. "Well, what happened, then?" She really wanted to know what happened, but at the same time, she didn't want to know what happened. She hoped nothing that she wouldn't like happened.

He let go of her and answered, "We just talked. Got questions answered. You know, closure. We needed it."

"Closure," Courtney said slowly, testing out the word. "Which means…?"

He sighed irritably. "It means we broke up. We ended it in a good manner. We didn't leave it off in a bad note and all that crap. We're no longer together. Finished. Kaput. You understand now, darling?"

She scoffed. "All right. The first sentence would've sufficed." But internally, she was jumping with joy.

He stared down at her, an unreadable expression on. His teal eyes went down to her still swollen lips and felt a desire to kiss them.

So he did.

And she, appreciatively, replied back with ease.

His large hand cupped the left side of her cheek while the other pulled her forward on the small of her back. Her arms enfolded around his neck, pulling him down, desperately wanting him closer and closer.

The kiss kept deepening. Soon later, tongues wrestled with each other happily, roughly. Duncan's rebellious hand snuck under her shirt and started stroking her soft skin. Courtney bit his lower lip once or twice. He started walking to the bed and so did she. She began taking off of her shirt when he grabbed her hand, ceasing her.

"No," he said.

She pulled back a little. "Why not?" she snapped.

'_Cause I can't_, he thought. "You're not ready."

"I _am _ready! Don't you feel the powerful mood in the room? I'm ready, you're ready. Isn't that enough? So let's continue, shall we? Before you kill the mood." She started kissing him again.

He pushed her away. "Sorry, Princess, but I'm gonna have to stab the hell out of this mood." He groaned and muttered a string of profanities. "We have to talk."

Confusion was written on her face. "Talk? About?"

"Us."

"What 'us'? There's no _us_. We're not even—we're not _together_." She tried to hide the disappointment from her tone.

"But you want there to be. I do, too. Like—wow, you can't _imagine _how much I want you and me to be together. Ever since I found out that I liked you, dude Courtney, I couldn't get you out of my mind. It's annoying, you know. And hey, I can't stop it." He winked at her. "And you can't, too. You like me, too, right?"

Her mouth was ready to protest and shout out many offenses, but upon realizing that it was useless, she focused her attention on her hands. She flexed her fingers and didn't dare look at those eyes staring at her with such intensity.

"You do, _right_?"

"And so what if I do?"

"Then all right."

Shyly, she peaked up at him. "Does…that mean we're together? Boyfriend, girlfriend?" she questioned, voice quiet.

Duncan turned solemn. He brought up his hand and started massaging his eyes hard. He didn't want to do this. He _desperately _didn't want to do this. It would hurt him, it would hurt her—it would hurt everything they had worked for.

"No, it doesn't mean we're together now."

A feeling of shock ran through her body. She gulped audibly and let out a nervous laugh. "Ah, what, is it because you didn't _properly ask me_?"

"It means we can't be together, Courtney." She could hear the reluctance in his tone. And since he sounded so reluctant saying that, why was he saying it?

Duncan saw the hurt and perplexity in her eyes. It pained him to say these words. It pained him to actually see the hurt in her eyes so clearly and closely. He didn't like this. He hated this.

"Believe me, I want to be with you," he explained. "I want to show you how fucking fun life can be. I want to show you everything. I want you to live a good life with me.

"But…we can't be together. Some would think that we should be together when we can't. Yeah, we'd look good together and we'd be happy together. We're attracted to each other. But after all of this shit, we can't. There's something that's making us not be together. Maybe we can't be together just _yet_. We just—damn it, it's hard to explain. We can't be together, I'm sorry."

Courtney opened her mouth a few times, but she didn't say anything. She didn't even know what to say. She thought that after everything had been fulfilled and they confessed, everything would be fine and they'd be a couple, a happy one. That was what she assumed, because that was what_ anyone _would assume. She didn't understand as to why he was doing this.

"I don't follow what you're saying, Duncan," she told him, tone becoming a bit furious. "We want this! We _want _to be together, because we _need _each other! We like each other! I—I love you!"

His eyes expanded. He wasn't expecting that. But she shouldn't have said that, because it would make everything even more challenging. "Oh, c'mon, don't do that. Don't give me that, Courtney. You're just making this hard."

She felt an ache to her heart when he said that. "But you love me too! Don't you? What's so hard? It's so goddamn _easy_! We said it, we're together! That's it! Everything will be fine! What's the matter, Duncan?"

"I love you, too."

Tears of joy started to come out of her eyelids, though tears of sadness overpowered it. This was just too much. "See?" she cried out, slightly jubilant that he said those words. "So—so that means that we're together—"

"Something's not right! We can be together, but we shouldn't! Not now, maybe. I don't know!" He clutched his head, groaning. "I hate this, all right? Now that Gwen and I broke up, we should be together, but we just _can't_.

"I'm going to…visit my family. I have some things to fix with them. I think I'll be fully all right if I talk to them. I mean, I was pretty fucked up to them when Elli died, you know? So it's fair that I talk to them, especially my ma." He sighed loudly. "I don't like hurting her, and this guilt inside of me is comin' back again."

Courtney said nothing. She refused to acknowledge the fact that they can't be together. She was well-informed with how he was doing the right thing, actually. Instead of becoming a couple and having fun, he was taking responsibility for his past actions. It was marvelous, but her selfish side didn't want that.

He grasped her chin gently and looked into her eyes. He knew what she was feeling, but he had to this. "You all right there, babe?" he murmured.

She glowered. "I'm not. I'm not 'all right.' I'm not—I'm not _anything_! You can't expect me to be _all right _after discovering the fact that we can't be together, evidently! I—" She cut herself off, exhaling. Why did this have to happen? "When are you leaving?"

He couldn't answer. He _shouldn't _answer. But he did, though. "Tomorrow."

She clenched her teeth and dropped her forehead on his chest. He gathered her in his arms until she was sitting comfortably on his lap. He placed his cheek next to hers, hot breath fanning her ear.

"So soon," she mumbled, small tears falling. "So…so…soon."

"I know, but today I'll spend the entire day with you, 'kay? We'll do whatever, whichever you want, no matter how boring it is. Study, do homework, talk about our _feelings_—all that jazz. All right, Princess?" He received no reply. "Don't be like that. Princess, say something."

"It's already the middle in the afternoon, moron."

He chuckled. "Let's start now, then. Let's do whatever, I don't care. C'mon." He had an idea. "Hey…hey you wanna visit my sister?"

If it were possible, her eyeballs would be popping out by now. She was highly, _highly _flattered that he would suggest such a thing. She wondered if he ever did this for Gwen.

"Are you…are you, um, sure?" Courtney asked, pulling back from to look at him square in the face "You're not just bringing up the idea just to make me feel good, right?"

He snorted. "'Course not. I just want you to meet her. I'm sure she'll like you." He grabbed her hand and made her stand up fast. "Let's go. I haven't visited Elli in a long while. We should stop at the nearby flower store. But, uh, _you're _buyin' it, not me. I don't wanna be in that place."

She kissed him.

He smirked when she stopped. "Well, what was that for?"

"You're amazing."

"You knew just _now_?"

Duncan intertwined her fingers with his, and they headed outside. He smiled briefly at her, and she returned the smile.

They'd be together again. Someday.

After all, although she wasn't a therapist anymore, they weren't done with their sessions yet.

**Fin.

* * *

**

**[*Sniffles***

**Well, readers, this is the end, sorry to say.**

**You know, it gives me this feeling as I realize that this story is gone. I remember writing the earlier chapters of this story, and I actually loved writing it. I had so much fun, and I had super-mega-awesome reviewers.**

**I hate the fact that I stopped updating for a freakin' **_**long time**_**, but at least I finished.**

**Sorry if the ending was not what you expected—you could say it was a semi-happy ending.**

**I'll think about putting up an epilogue if I ever find inspiration, because if I **_**do **_**put up an epilogue, I would have **_**no idea **_**what to put. Ideas, guys?**

**Whoo! Done! Gosh, this feels great!**

**Thanks, guys. And thanks to those who kept supporting me and keeping up with my crappy updates and excuses. Blame school, man, blame school.**

**Bye!**

**Sincerely,**

**eat dots – formerly **_**Monica-san**_**]**


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